All Along the Eastern Front
by favilla
Summary: Mangaverse: Riza watches Roy adjust to his new assignment in Eastern. Set before Roy recruited Edward. Rated for language, mostly, and lemon/limes in later chapters. Spoilers for Chapters 50 and up in the manga. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"So-o," Riza heard the brunette secretary address the blonde mail clerk, "I heard you've been seeing the Colonel."

Riza bit back a sigh. He wasn't the only Colonel in Eastern, but he was the only Colonel female NCO's would be discussing in the lavatory while they preened in the mirror.

"Oh," the blonde frowned. "No, not anymore. I guess things were getting too serious, and he's so busy..."

"Uh-huh, that sounds about right. Fun while it lasted though?"

"Oh, yes," the blonde mock fanned herself. "Those hands! And that voice, I swear, half the time I didn't even care what he was saying...I heard he's moved on to Cindy, the cook! Can you believe it?"

"Her?" The secretary made a dismissive gesture. "She'll last another night, if that. He likes to have a conversation, at least."

The mail clerk giggled. "You're so bad! Well, I have to be going, so..."

"Call me tonight, we'll go out later."

"I will!"

The door shut, and Riza waited until the door shut again before opening the stall...

...and running right into a smirking secretary. "I thought someone was lurking in here."

"Imagine, a public bathroom being occupied." Nonplussed, Riza walked to the stall and washed her hands.

"It must be difficult, working so closely with such a charming, handsome man...and watching him date everyone but you."

"Dating?" Riza asked as she dried her hands. "Is that what you call it?"

The secretary smiled lazily. "Not exactly, but I didn't want to offend your sensibilities."

Riza examined the young woman with unflinching eyes, and wondered if she'd ever looked so... soft. Maybe that's why he liked them. She could see the appeal of losing oneself in the flattering eye of another. "I'm not so easy to offend. However, I don't have the time, nor the inclination, to gossip about my commanding officer, so if you'll excuse me?"

"Tell him Anna says hello," Anna, presumably, said.

**-X-**

Riza dumped a stack of paperwork on the Lieutenant Colonel's desk and waited at attention while he finished up his phone call.

"Yes, sir. I understand, sir, however..." He rested his forehead on his free palm and shared a weary look with his lieutenant. Hakuro, again, she decided. "With all due respect, sir, if the infrastructure were improved by the military, perhaps the inhabitants of Lilam would be less likely to turn to the insurgents for basic needs. Sir. Also, if we drive out the rebels by building good will with the citizens, we could increase the tax revenue by forty percent...Yes, sir, one month. Thank you, sir." Mustang hung up, disgusted. "Is our media rep back in from the South, yet?"

"He hasn't reported yet, sir."

"Let me know if he gets in alive; I need stronger PR in the Lilam district as soon as possible. I doubt Hakuro will grant me a month to get everything patched up. Also, I need to move the meeting with the military engineers from next week to tomorrow morning...and let them know the meeting will take place in Lilam, so we will definitely need to arrange security."

Hawkeye referred to her calendar. "We'll need to move your meeting with the uniform committee, sir. And seeing as you'll likely be gone all day, you'll probably miss your speech to the graduates of the University of Eastern Sciences."

"That time of year already?" He shrugged. "Just as well, because I'd completely forgotten to write a speech. What time is the ceremony?"

"Twenty hundred, sir."

"Lilam is only an hour out...We'll just schedule the meeting for...do you think oh-nine hundred will be sufficient notice for a meeting?"

Riza resisted the urge to pull her hair out. "No, sir, but I imagine if you order it, they'll have little choice." She didn't want to imagine the amount of rescheduling the aides of the engineers would have on their hands this evening, either.

"I was referring to you, Lieutenant," he replied silkily, and he had the gall to look hurt. "Perhaps it would be best if we just had the head engineer...Major Nomac, I believe? Yes? If you direct him to arrive at my office at oh-nine-hundred, and schedule a walking tour of the city, he could meet with his group and report back to me in a few days with a plan for re-vamping the utilities."

"That would be easier to arrange, sir."

"Hey, Boss!" Havoc hollered outside. "Nottingline Train just got hijacked."

"Why do these bastards insist on hijacking trains?" Mustang cursed. "They can only go two directions! It's not like they can escape! What stop are they at now?"

"Flying past Andletown."

"How many passengers?"

Havoc made some hushed inquiries. "'Bout two hundred."

"Anyone of note?"

Hawkeye detected some hopefulness in his voice.

Fuery scanned the list of passengers he'd compiled with a frown. "No, sir."

"Oh, well." Mustang pulled out a train map that had been woefully overused in the past months. "Sealver should be good, Morgan's men are in the area. As usual, Fuery, tell the station manager to evacuate the area and to stop the train manually."

"Will the military pay for the damages?" Fuery asked, timid. "They always ask me that, and one of them said that we still owed them for repairs."

Mustang shrugged. "Tell them yes; if any of them call back, refer them to General Hakuro. He thinks he's running Eastern, anyway, might as well share the headache. Havoc, dispatch Sergeant Morgan and his men, if they're not already on their way. Falman, Fuery -- you guys man the phones and send as much paperwork as you can to Colonel Jenkins. Everyone else, we're going on a field trip."

Havoc gave some rushed instructions on the phone, then hung up with a sigh. "Why can't we ever have political unrest in tourist areas? I want to save women in bikinis."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, sir." Morgan snapped off a precise salute. "The insurgents are still inside the train, threatening to kill the hostages. There are four that we know about, but our snipers can't get a clear shot."

"Sir, should I...?" Hawkeye reached for her weapon.

"Not necessary, Lieutenant." Mustang thought for a moment. "...I'm going to reduce the oxygen concentration in the train cars. It will cause everyone to pass out, but you'll only have about two minutes to capture these guys before I have to get medical personnel on that train. If anyone on board has any medical conditions, they'll need attention right away."

"Yes, sir. Everyone got that?"

His men nodded and Mustang raised his hand and tilted it slightly with complete concentration on his face. Approximately one minute later the hijackers began to fall to the floor.

"They're dropping, sir!" A soldier exclaimed.

"Go, go, go!" Morgan shouted.

Morgan's soldiers burst through the doors and hastily drug out the insurgents. Medical personnel rushed through the other doors with supplemental oxygen and Mustang lowered his hand. A few men nearby began to lower their weapons as the fourth rebel was restrained, only to quickly raise them as a medic screamed.

"There's a fifth one!"

"Shit, I can't get a clear -"

Two shots pierced the train window as a fifth insurgent dropped the knife he'd just pressed against a doctor's throat. "Excellent aim, Lieutenant," Mustang murmured, "as always."

"Thank you, sir," she replied. She remained in a shooting stance as all the passengers were evacuated. Havoc mirrored her stance as he tracked the activity outside the train.

Mustang checked his watch. "Okay, let's open the station for business. I don't want travel impeded any further; if the train needs to run with a window broken, then so be it. Lieutenant Morgan, do you have everything under control here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, let's go interrogate some terrorists," Havoc relaxed.

Breda sighed. "Can we have lunch first? It's not like they're going anywhere."

"Bring a sandwich." Mustang narrowed his eyes. "I know you have one on you somewhere."

"That's discriminating, sir."

"Is it?" Havoc laughed. "You ate before we left. You've been eating continuously since we began working this morning, and I saw you in the mess hall this morning trying to get Cindy to give you seconds by telling her you'd put in a good word for her to the Lieutenant Colonel."

"Is that what you were trying to do?" Mustang asked as he opened the car door for Hawkeye. "I wondered what the hell you were talking about."

"Her pancakes are delicious," Breda grumbled.

"I thought you were being...metaphorical."

"You don't want to date a girl who can cook?" Breda shook his head. "That's one of my top priorities. She needs to be able to cook, she can't have a dog, and I prefer redheads."

"Got that, Boss? Quit stealing my girls, focus on Breda's instead. He just drew you a flow chart."

Breda blanched. "Shut up, Havoc!"

Mustang leaned his head against the seat and shot a look at Hawkeye that made her smile. "Speaking of girls, Colonel, Anna gives her greetings."

"Hey." Breda nudged Havoc. "Who's she?"

"Hot secretary," Havoc explained helpfully. "Brown hair, big--"

"Which one," Breda asked Havoc. "Payroll, or--"

"Works for the General. The one with the nice teeth, remember?"

"Ohh, the General's secretary." Breda nodded at Mustang. "Nice one, sir."

Mustang rubbed his temples. "Last time I checked, my personal life was no one's business...except perhaps for Havoc, seeing as our tastes unfortunately coincide."

"Maybe they should coincide more with Breda's, Boss. Or Falman's," Havoc suggested.

Hawkeye eased on the brake as she turned into headquarters. "Maybe we wouldn't be discussing your personal life if we could go to the mess hall or lavatory without it being brought to our attention, sir."

"I apologize, Lieutenant," Mustang murmured.

"No need, sir." She parked the car. "I'm going to begin rescheduling your appointments for tomorrow, unless you would prefer that I join you?"

"I would love you to join me, Lieutenant, but I suppose you would like to leave relatively on time this evening...Breda, you'll assist me. Havoc, please help Hawkeye in the office, I can only imagine the state it is in right now."

"Yes sir." Havoc puffed his chest out grandly as he lit a cigarette. "I will do my best to restore order."

"You just don't want me to see Cindy," Breda accused his commanding officer. "Are you afraid I'll woo her away from you with my culinary expertise?"

"Terrified," Mustang replied dryly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

Hours after the sun had set, Hawkeye was still on the phone with yet another member of the uniform committee. The group was not pleased to have their appointment pushed back yet again, and was making it well known by dredging up every shred of red tape possible for Riza to cut through. Havoc had left long before after being summoned by the Colonel, who was still interrogating the hijackers, because Breda was not an efficient interrogator on an empty stomach. Fuery and Falman had been arguing where to file the requisitions reports so loudly that Hawkeye's temper had momentarily snapped, and she had ordered them to leave the building immediately...so now she had stacks of reports to file after she sorted all of the incoming reports that had arrived in the Colonel's absence, which could only be completed once she got the uniform committee of the damned phone.

"I understand you're very frustrated, but the Colonel is a very busy man. I can set you up an appointment for next Friday, at 0700." Mustang wouldn't be awake that early, but she'd already resigned herself to attending in his stead hours before. "Earliest I can do, Lieutenant."

"He's canceled on us three times this month, Lieutenant Hawkeye. We may not be the most pressing of his responsibilities, but we are included, and we'd appreciate if you let him know that his predecessor never missed a meeting."

His predecessor also never tried to rebuild the war-torn region, preferring instead to further destroy the towns that desperately wanted for basic infrastructure, but Riza held her tongue and replied, "I'll let him know your concerns, Lieutenant. Friday it is then. Thank you."

"Uniform committee?" an exhausted voice purred. "Or the engineers?"

Riza ignored him and gestured to his desk, "You need to get those signed before you leave, since you won't be in the office at all tomorrow."

"Go home, Lieutenant."

She sat in the chair next to his desk. "I'll wait."

"You don't believe me?" He had the grace to look wounded, as if he'd never burned a stack of papers in a fit of frustration.

"I'd like to get them filed before I leave," she replied diplomatically. "Falman has been getting into pissing contests with everyone else over alpha-numerical order."

"I'll talk to him about it."

"I already kicked him out of the office today," she sighed, "and Kain."

Mustang looked taken aback. "Poor Fuery is probably crying himself to sleep tonight because of you, Lieutenant."

"Maybe he won't bother me as much tomorrow," she shrugged, although the sight of Kain's puppy dog eyes had nearly made her relent. "You need to sign that twice, and this one got sent back to us because you didn't initial here."

Mustang narrowed his eyes. "These are all uniform infractions. And uniform order forms...and back orders...are they upset that I canceled on them, because this isn't the way to go about it."

"The female uniform committee is getting pretty noisy. You've canceled on them three times this month alone."

"Oh?" Mustang swept all the forms in the trash. "Tell them I'll make them all wear miniskirts if they keep this up." He performed a brief calculation in his head and smirked. "We'll save roughly three million cenz a year on fabric costs. I'll submit a report on my findings to General Grumman."

"That's sexist, sir." On the one hand, she knew that she should absolutely file those forms because the uniform committee would be after blood if they couldn't procure a copy. On the other, it was nearly 2100.

Hawkeye stood to leave.

"If they don't like it they can hold a meeting with Colonel Jenkins," he retorted. "Over half of the women here seem to think I'm some kind of oversexed pervert, so I might as well use it to my advantage."

Hawkeye handed him his overcoat. "You give them no reason to think so?"

"Point taken, but I was transferred to this backwater because the higher-ups were concerned about my ambitions," he replied. "They can't get too upset if I redirect my energies towards something less pressing."

"If I wind up wearing a miniskirt because of your political war with the uniform committee, I think I might castrate you, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang."

"I'm pretty lax with regulations, Lieutenant Hawkeye, but please don't joke about that, especially before bed. I'll have nightmares," he teased.

"I wasn't joking," she teased right back, pleased as he hurried out of the office.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

The train ride was fairly uneventful, which wasn't necessarily rare, but certainly welcome. When Mustang had arrived in East City the hijacking rate had risen to nearly forty percent of all routes, but lately it had hovered around fifteen, and on Wednesdays, for some reason he was still investigating, the rates were nearly zero. Mustang was relying this information to the chief engineer, a slightly pudgy man with a full head of auburn hair, who did not seem to be relieved.

"Things are progressing very well in this area, considering," Mustang smiled winningly at the older man. "There hasn't been an _organized_ uprising in several weeks now."

"That's, frankly, amazing," Major Nomac scowled. "Considering."

Hawkeye stifled a yawn.

When they arrived they were flanked by several soldiers, and Hawkeye coordinated with the security team to ensure an adequate number of snipers were positioned. She did not want her Lieutenant Colonel to gain his promotion in the same manner of his predecessor.

Cumbered as they were by security, Mustang and Nomac toured as much of the war-torn village as was possible, and Mustang even stopped along the way to fix a child's toy and a mother's water pail. The man was made for photo-ops, Hawkeye thought wryly. She could swear he was scouring the region not for utilities upgrades, but for a baby to kiss.

Major Nomac, for his part, although he never appeared as comfortable as Mustang in the dangerous town, took careful notes of everything they saw, while his aide took pictures of nearly every facility.

"Go back home you goddamn military dogs!"

"Hey, pretty boy! Stay here much longer and your face'll be nothin' but a bloody hole!"

"Bastards!"

Mustang waved to the crowd of protesters with poise while Nomac's face reddened.

"There isn't much work available," Mustang informed him. "They are understandably frustrated."

"They want to kill us," Nomac hissed. "It's not as if they aren't capable, either."

"If I didn't associate with people who wanted to kill me," Mustang countered, "then I'd never leave the office."

Hawkeye eyed the growing crowd warily. "Perhaps we should go inside, sir."

"In a moment," Mustang nodded. "Cover me, Lieutenant?"

He stopped walking towards the water treatment center and faced the crowd of malcontents. "My name is Roy Mustang, rank Lieutenant Colonel. I'm in charge of rebuilding your town. I understand my predecessor did not make this one of his priorities, but I assure you, for this month at least, it is in my top five."

"Yo, Roy!" A young man called out. "Why don't you do us all a favor and burn this trash heap to the ground?"

"Too much paperwork," he replied easily, and gained a drunken chuckle somewhere in the back. "In any event, what I am doing right now is touring the infrastructure, or what's left of it, with my chief engineer, Major Nomac. I intend to have the water system functioning in, what was that Major, two weeks? The electrical grid will take some time to rebuild, but it should be up within the month. I anticipate this will open up approximately forty new positions, and once we start rebuilding the roads next month, that will increase to over one hundred more. Of course, with the new roads and improved irrigation system, jobs should increase exponentially after that.

"I am not here to punish you for giving aid to insurgent groups...at this time. I understand that many of you disapprove of the military, but ask yourself: Can the insurgents give your town paying jobs, or help rebuild your children's schools? As distasteful as it may be," Mustang gestured to himself and the soldiers around him, "to allow us into your town, please consider the alternative." The alternative, although left unsaid, was implicitly understood. Mustang let his threat hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Applications for employment are available-" someone in the crowd launched a rock at the Lieutenant Colonel and he caught with his left hand, "-in the office of your military representative."

"Hell, I need a job. Where's the office?"

"Shut up, they'll shoot you!"

"Bastards!"

Major Nomac turned to Hawkeye. "He acts like he's running for parliament."

"Let's just go inside before they throw more rocks," Hawkeye suggested.

Roy sprawled out on the seat on the train ride back and slept.

"Well, it's not going to be easy," Nomac told him once they arrived in East City, "but if you can get me the funding, and secure the area enough to get the work done, then we might be able to pull this off."

"The funding is already allocated," Mustang assured him, "and if I get enough people in the Lilam area to perform the construction themselves, then the rebels will be less likely to attack. They don't want to risk the goodwill of the people, because they're running out of places to hide."

"And if the rebels themselves enroll and sabotage the project?"

Mustang sighed. "I'm betting that the locals would rather have running water than bombs, but I've been wrong before."

"Colonel, your speaking engagement is in one hour," Hawkeye reminded. "Have you worked on your speech at all?"

"Is the speech in one hour, or is the graduation in one hour, because those graduations take all day. I don't want to spend my evening listening to a bunch of boring speeches."

"The speech, sir." Hawkeye lied. She was still slightly peeved at him for throwing away all of the uniform committee's paperwork, and it wouldn't be proper to give a keynote address without listening to the entire ceremony.

"Of course," Mustang turned towards Major Nomac. "A pleasure as always, Major. Please send my regards to your colleagues in Central."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

The Lieutenant Colonel was late to the commencement speech because a rebel group had decided to attack a military convoy heading from Eastern towards the South, but the university had assured him that they would post-pone the commencement until he could arrive. Hawkeye sat towards the back of the arena as part of his security detail, and a military force patrolled outside.

"He's certainly making a name for himself, isn't he?" a familiar voice murmured behind her. "First he makes enemies of most of the higher-ups in Central, and then he makes enemies of all of the rebel factions of the entire Eastern area. They're not too fond of him in the North, either, after your little exercise up there."

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," Hawkeye bowed slightly. "Lieutenant Colonel Mustang is unaware of your arrival."

"I'm not here officially," he grinned. "Gracia and I are getting married in a few months, and I was hoping Roy would be my best man. Well, best available man, at least."

"Oh, congrat-" Her jaw nearly dropped at the massive amount of photographs he had been concealing in his left hand.

"Isn't she beautiful? This is where I proposed, and this is the dress she bought, and this is where we're hoping to have the wedding but we might go with her parents' church near Dublith..." A flurry of pictures emerged from his pockets, but thankfully the lights began to dim. "I'll show you later," he promised.

She continued to watch the rear entrance, but heard his voice purr into the microphone.

"Good evening. I apologize for my tardiness; I suppose I haven't changed much since graduation."

A few students chuckled, but more than one professor grumbled.

"I'm here, of course, to congratulate all of you on your commencement from one of the finest, if not the finest, scientific universities in the entire country. It is a worthy achievement, and something which you must all be very proud. I advise you to go out to Mulligan's tonight and toast each other.

"I am here today because I have been where you have been, and also because I have been where you will be, and perhaps I am in some position to guide you. And you will need some guidance after graduation, because up until today, for most of you, problems have been on paper, or hanging theoretically in the air. They have been the contradictions of Rune's theory of composition, or the physics of fourteen-dimensional space, or how in the world you're going to pass Amestrian Literature. They have been tough, and some have been so esoteric, Professor Djin," more laughter, "that they made you feel as though your brain was bending, but they have not had any lasting impact on your life, or that of others. Academia is disconnected from the world, because the world is not an ideal place. There are too many variables, too many train-hijackings and robberies and children growing up without having enough to eat. Academia is not designed to help people.

"But science is not academia. Science is questioning, studying, testing...science is deductive reasoning...science is asking questions that perhaps don't want to be answered, and science is what this country needs more than any advancements you might make hiding yourself away in vast think tanks. Science is the founding stone on which this country was built, and on which this country will continue to grow. Science is not comfortable, but as the best thinkers in the nation, it is your duty to forgo comfort in favor of reason."

"Did he write this before-hand?"

Hawkeye shook her head. "Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"I thought so, he's rambling." Hughes sighed. "He better not forget he has a military audience."

"The military," Mustang continued smoothly, "is not comfortable, and there are many sacrifices to be made in order to secure the lives of our fellow citizens, but it is welcoming to those who wish to use their education serve their country. For those of you who would like more information on our programs for graduates, please see me afterwards. In whatever career you might choose, please remember to always inquire, assess and analyze. Thank you very much for having me, and once again congratulations."

**-X-**

"Well, that was borderline seditious until your tasteless recruitment speech."

Mustang hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Who invited him?"

"Good to see you, too, Roy." Hughes grinned. "I've got some information you requested regarding your new rebel group."

"I wondered why you weren't in your office when I called," Roy sighed. "What the hell are you doing taking the train here, anyway?"

"Can't fly yet." Hughes shot him a look. "And I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Ah, Mr. Mustang?"

The trio turned to find a timid, young graduate approach. "Yes?"

"Uh, I just...I'm an alchemist, sir, I specialize in biological transmutations, mostly agricultural, and I was wondering how I could work for the state."

"You mean as a state alchemist?" Roy inquired.

"Yes, sir."

Roy's expression remained impassive. "As a state alchemist you can be called at any moment to fight for your country, and your research is often heavily directed by men who want something they can apply to the battlefield. Unless you want to be under someone else's thumb for the rest of your life, I'd suggest you try the private sector."

The young man remained firm. "The private sector directs research as well, and there is less freedom in pursuing things that might actually help others."

"You're willing to kill for your right to explore crop enrichment?" Hughes tilted his head. "That's...that's damned admirable."

"I'm a scientist." The boy turned back to Roy. "You should understand."

Roy shrugged and handed the young man his card. "Sure, give me a call, and I'll find out when the next evaluation is going to be...but I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. Only one person passes the examination a year, sometimes two."

"You sounded so great on stage, but you're kind of a bastard in person, you know that?"

Hughes clapped Mustang on the shoulder. "He's been told that many times, but please don't tell he's a good speaker. We have enough trouble getting him to shut up as it is, right Lieutenant?"

"Thank you for your interest in the military. Shall we be going, sir?" Hawkeye gestured towards the door.

"Yes, Lieutenant. And, I hope I didn't put you off," he addressed the graduate, "I'm just a strong believer in informed consent. As a scientist, I am sure you understand."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

They were both pretty drunk when Hawkeye picked them up from the bar. She dropped Hughes off at the military hotel, and turned to drive the Colonel home when he placed his hand over hers on the steering wheel. She immediately reached for her gun and began scanning for threats, but then she noticed he was smiling softly. Riza re-holstered her weapon and looked at him curiously.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Lieutenant." His words were militarily precise, but she could see in his over-bright eyes that he'd perhaps partaken in a few whiskeys too many. "Please don't castrate me."

She pressed her lips together in a firm, disapproving line, but weakened slightly when he pouted. "Damn it, you're such a mess."

"Hughes made me drink so much. He's getting married in the winter, and he asked me to be his best man," he explained. "We had a few congratulatory toasts."

"Ah."

He stared out the window. Hawkeye began to turn the wheel, but he shook his head. She waited.

"He always talked about her in Ishval, and I'd get so angry at him for it. I was jealous. His future was waiting safely for him in Central, and mine...mine knew me too well to wait anywhere for me." He smiled, faintly, and placed his hand back in his lap. "I don't suppose it could be any different."

His voice carried the same Eastern accent he'd had when he first came to study with her father, and the memory of an old ache echoed in her heart. She thought she said, "Sir," but his name left her lips in a soft whisper. "Roy-"

"I don't want you to think that I've forgotten." He looked at her hands. "I know it might seem that way, in the office, but I remember who you are."

She turned away. "You're not old enough to be senile yet."

"I'll never be old enough to be senile," he forced a smile. "One of the perks."

She finally turned onto the main road. "They might exile you, you know. You should probably prepare yourself for that eventuality, too."

"Who would take me?"

"Drachma," she replied, smiling a faint smile of her own. "They'd use you to keep warm."

"General Armstrong would have me assassinated." He frowned thoughtfully. "She might be trying now."

"What in the world did you do to her last year? Did you say something rude when we broke through her defenses?" Riza wondered. "She hates you."

"I was perfectly polite," Roy looked offended. "I think she just hates men."

"You must have gloated, or said something arrogant, like always. She tried to recruit Havoc, remember? And all of her subordinates are men."

"She hates handsome, charming men," he clarified.

"So...why does she hate you?"

Roy shot her a baleful look. "You abuse me, Lieutenant."

"I can't help it." She fought an urge to brush his unruly bangs away from his forehead. "With all the women telling you how wonderful you are, someone needs to keep you grounded."

"Where are these women?" He sighed. "I only seem to get the ones who call me a bastard."

"They are in the second floor lavatory, across from inventory control."

He stopped smiling. "Is that where you ran into Anna?"

"What?" She turned left onto his street, confused for a moment, and then she cursed him for remembering every little detail, even when he was wasted. "Yes, actually. Her and some blonde, and they did not call you a bastard."

"What did they call me?" He sighed again, dramatically. "Anna could not have had anything nice to say about me."

Riza parked in front of his house. "I'm not inflating your ego."

"Good things?" He tilted his head. "That's odd, because I never touched them."

"You never..."

"No." He tugged her hair. "You always think the worst of me. They're useful as informants, but impractical as lovers. I may be a bastard," he allowed, "but I am a logical man. I don't sleep with women I work with. You...of all people, should know this."

Roy's eyes were still bright from drinking, but they also looked hungry, like they had when he was younger, spending all his free time in her father's study, devouring books like snack cakes. He tugged her hair again, very gently, near the nape of her neck, and let his hand rest there.

"Roy."

He looked at his hand as if it belonged to another man. "Mm?"

She licked her lips. "You're home."

"Yes," he said, leaning towards her with a perplexed look that fixed itself on her mouth, "so I am."

His lips touched hers lightly, and she knew she should pull away, but she was so shocked that it was still Roy, after all, behind this charismatic, confident mask, that she leaned in. He was still inside, somehow, even though she had been certain the war had killed him. She deepened the kiss, searching for him, and he reached out to her desperately, as if he hadn't seen her in years. And he hadn't, really, she thought.

He pulled away, then, even as she reached for him. He settled his hands on her shoulders, panting, trying to come up with something to say but for the first time in years at a loss for words. Riza brushed his cheek, tenderly, and shook her head.

He was still the same man she'd fallen in love with years ago. He was a good man playing the part of a bastard, a farmer's son playing an urbane gentleman, a scientist playing a soldier. She knew him better than anyone, and she hadn't been able to tell he'd been acting, and she felt ashamed at not calling him on it years ago, before his persona had become so much a part of him that he might never escape.

"I'm sorry," he whispered finally. "I forgot myself for a moment."

She shook her head again. "I thought...I thought we had changed, but we're just hiding, aren't we?"

"Little of both, I'd guess." He had schooled his face back to it's blank mask, but his eyes still betrayed him. "I'll see you in the morning, Lieutenant. Thank you for driving me home."

"You're welcome, sir," she replied, repairing a mask of her own. "Don't be late."

As she drove herself home, Riza wondered if it bothered her that Roy was still the same man she'd fallen in love with, or if the trouble was that she was the same girl who'd loved him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

He didn't mention the incident the next day at the office, but that might have been because he didn't have the time. As soon as he'd arrived at work, twenty minutes late, Hawkeye noted, he'd met with Hughes in his office to discuss the advancements made on the new rebel faction who evidently called themselves the Red Hands.

"Always fucking color coded," Mustang had grumbled. "Like murderous, seditious crayons." His eyes were slightly red, and he had drawn the blinds as soon as he arrived, but other than that he functioned as if he hadn't attempted to kill his liver the night before.

Hawkeye took notes, as always, because she could be trusted with what not to officially record.

Of course, that meant that Havoc was in charge of the office, which meant that Hawkeye shouldn't have been surprised to discover four grown men waving banners at a cluster of snails. She narrowed her eyes. Breda's, which read "Go Pokey!", was decorated with glitter.

Havoc had a penchant for racing very slow animals, and no one in the office aside from Hawkeye saw fit to question this peculiarity. No, she thought angrily, instead they cheer him on with signs.

Fuery lowered his sign. "...I'll get back to the phones."

"I win!" Havoc accepted payment jauntily. "Now to destroy the evidence."

"You're already caught," Hawkeye grit her teeth. "And I doubt the requisitions reports have been reviewed and sent back to inventory."

"You would be wrong, Lieutenant," Havoc grinned around an unlit cigarette. "Those were turned in yesterday."

"Fuery?"

"Yes, ma'am. We worked very hard yesterday."

"And the uniform committee?"

"All the infractions, complaints, and suggestions have been filed," Falman assured her. "Correctly," he added, looking pointedly at Fuery, who bristled.

"The Colonel said the correct filing system for those was the lavatory trash bin. I was following orders, unlike some people who are of lower rank than me."

Hawkeye had drank nothing the night before, but her head throbbed worse than Mustang's. "Enough. Something isn't right here. When I find out who's lying--"

"MUSTANG!!"

Everyone in the office turned towards the bellowing figure in the doorway.

Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins was a tall, willowy man, and the exertion of his screams turned his pale face a vivid, splotchy red. "WHY IS MY DESK COVERED WITH YOUR PAPERS?!"

Mustang opened the door, noted the snail race with a frown, and finally looked at his peer with a blank face. "General Grumman rerouted some of the inventory control to your department after charging me with restructuring the Lilam district. He sent a memo yesterday, I believe."

The older man ground his teeth so hard Fuery winced. "There was no memo. My aide told me that your man there," he pointed at Havoc, "waltzed in early this morning while I was on break with piles of papers, and announced that my office was his new file room."

Havoc blinked innocently.

"That was inappropriate, Lieutenant," Mustang chided. "Have you called General Grumman? Perhaps, due to his hectic schedule, he hasn't sent the memo yet? I assure you that, spirited language aside, my men wouldn't transfer sensitive documents without proper approval."

"Oh, I'll call, alright--"

Mustang raised his hand. "I'll call for you, of course, just to make certain. Would you like to take a seat?"

Jenkins looked ready to spit rusty nails.

"Hello-o, Anna, how are you this morning?...Yes, I did, and I'm pleased that you thought of me...Tuesday? That sounds lovely, but unfortunately I'm quite busy this week...Yes, of course I will..."

"Get. To. The. Point." Jenkins huffed. "Damned playboy."

"Ah, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins is in my office at the moment, and he seems to be a tad vexed that he hasn't received a memo from your office informing him of his increased workload...Oh, I'm sure that he and his staff are quite capable...No, no, that isn't the issue at all, I don't think...Well..." Mustang smiled. "That's so kind of you. In any case, would you like to speak with him?...Oh, is that so...Yes, I'll let him know right away. Thank you so much, as always. Yes, you, too." He hung up.

"Well?"

"General Grumman would like a meeting with you regarding your productivity at 1500 sharp. He is under the impression that your office might not be able to handle such a heavy workload, so you might not have to worry about all those requisitions reports anyway." Mustang's smile widened. "So everything works out. Was there anything else you needed?"

The red drained from Jenkins' face. "I never said my staff couldn't handle it."

"Of course you didn't."

"We could handle twice as much."

"Really?" Mustang looked impressed. "Would you like to take on the uniform committee, in that case? I'm rather swamped here," he gestured across the office, including the snail race, "and I'm sure the General would look positively on your actively pursuing more work."

"Have all the papers sent to my office immediately upon arrival." Jenkins saluted.

Mustang returned the salute. "You're a good man, Jenkins. I'll be sure to let the General know what an asset you've been."

Jenkins shut the door.

Mustang smirked. "A weeks vacation, Havoc. You earned it."

"Thanks, Boss. Yours came in fourth."

"I saw that." Mustang handed him ten cenz. "Anyone care for a rematch? I think Noodles just needed to warm up."

Hughes strolled out of the office, hands shoved in his pockets. "How'd mine do?"

"Last," Mustang gloated. "I think your camera flash paralyzed him in fear."

"Dammit. Line 'em up again." He handed his money over to Havoc. "You have the eyes of a champion, don't you sweetheart?"

Hawkeye felt her headache dissipate. "So Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins just took over our entire workload?"

"Just for the month," Mustang answered smugly.

"How did you do that?" She wondered.

"Beat Grumman at chess this morning." Mustang sat on the edge of Breda's desk and grabbed his chips. "Sorry I was late."

He offered the bag to Hughes while Breda scowled. "Thanks, Roy."

"No problem. So," he swallowed, "the group who hijacked the train the day before yesterday and who attacked our convoy is called the Red Hands, and they're unique because they're based out of the south. Evidently they've hooked up with our friendly local seditious gang, Blue Group, which has doubled their weapons cache and their bank accounts. It's suspected that they're being funded by Aerugo, but of course the government there isn't claiming them, and unless you all want to serve in another seven year war, it would be best to ignore any evidence pointing towards such funding."

"My eyes are closed, Boss," Havoc assured him.

"Good. So, if our men to the South aren't going to get rid of these guys, I thought that we could do it. Our covert man, Hughes, here, is going to pose as a supplier to these guys, and we are going to cover him. Fuery, you'll be taking over surveillance. Hawkeye and Havoc, you'll be our high cover. Breda, you're with me on the ground, and Falman..."

"Yes, sir?"

Mustang smiled. "You're going to take charge of the office, because you're the only one who files anything, much less accurately. If anyone asks, I am touring the progress in Lilam."

"Yes, sir."

"Transfer all the files to Jenkins' office, except for reports from the Engineer Corps. Everyone else, get everything packed tonight. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning at 0400, and I'm not sure when we'll get back." He smirked. "And bring a bathing suit, because we're going to Rele."

"I think I might hug you, Boss," Havoc grinned.

Mustang frowned. "Try to restrain yourself, Lieutenant."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

Maes looked at himself in the mirror, impressed, but not necessarily pleased. His mustache and thick beard itched, and the red hue made his skin look almost sallow. The padding underneath his clothes helped disguise him, but he cursed the extra girth as he maneuvered his way out of the bathroom and into the bar. If Gracia saw him now, she would run in the other direction. Maybe she'd kick him in the groin first, and then flee. He looked like the type of person one would run into in a shady pub on the outskirts of the tourists traps in the jewel of the south. He looked like the type of person who would shoot first and never ask any questions later.

Deep down, Maes thought grimly, he was that type of person.

A voice clicked in his ear. "Company's coming."

He tucked the ear piece in his pocket and readied himself to meet his new friends.

**-X-**

"Company's coming."

Roy didn't look over his shoulder as he racked up the billiard's balls. He made sure they were all correctly aligned and nodded at Breda to break them.

Breda put a little too much force into the shot, and the cue ball flew across the room and into a large man's drink.

"What the hell?!" The man stood up quickly. "That could've hit my girl!"

Roy shot Breda a withering glare as he murmured something against his hand.

**-X-**

"Company's fine, but the help is getting a little testy."

Havoc looked at his companion, who kept her focus over the barrel of her rifle. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Looks like a bar fight."

They sat overlooking the pub in a hotel room they had rented for it's strategic location. Havoc pulled out his binoculars and peered through the windows. "Can you see it through your scope?"

"Of course."

Havoc looked impressed. "What model is that?"

Hawkeye stilled as the fight worsened.

"Lieutenant!" Havoc's voice became crisp as he watched her prepare to take a shot. "You are not authorized to make that shot!"

"Just in case."

"We're a centimeter away from a court martial as it is," he reminded her firmly. "Boss can take care of himself. Focus on Hughes."

Her jaw tightened, but she readjusted her scope. "I know my orders, Lieutenant."

"Never said you didn't," he assured her.

"Targets are seated," she muttered.

Havoc settled down with his own rifle. "Copy. Dibs on the scrawny guy."

**-X-**

"I'm very sorry about my friend, he's drunk," Mustang explained sheepishly.

"He's about to be dead!"

Breda set his jaw dangerously. "Oh yeah?"

Mustang slid in between the two men and got slugged in the chin.

**-X-**

Maes tried to ignore his best friend falling onto the pool table with a sickening crash, and smiled at the two men seated across from him at their booth. He poured them each a beer and casually measured them. The one in charge was probably the thinner one with the black pencil mustache, Maes decided. The beefier man drank his beer only after his boss took a sip.

"So, Mike, is it?"

"That's it," Maes grinned. "I assume you're associates of Justin's?"

"Something like that. He told us you had some M911's in stock you needed to get rid of."

"Something like that," Maes allowed in a low voice. "Although talking about the particulars here...I usually do business at my place downtown."

"Uh-huh." Pencil-mustache leaned forward in his seat."Forgive us if we seem a little suspicious, but we have reasons to keep a low profile."

Maes shrugged good-naturedly. "Hey, it's all the same to me, but you'll understand if I have reasons not to be seen in public with guys who need to keep a low profile."

The beefy man turned to view the growing ruckus over his shoulder. "Some guy just threw a chair...maybe we should continue this conversation some other time?"

"I can't afford any military men showing up here," Maes muttered truthfully. "Here's my card. You guys want to meet up tomorrow, and I'll try to free up my schedule."

**-X-**

It had been a while since Roy had gotten into a bar fight, but he managed to pull himself up from the pool table in time to get slammed backwards as Breda collapsed after the man's girlfriend hit him in the head with a pool cue.

"Hey! You need your girlfriend to protect you?" Breda sputtered, clutching his head with a curse.

Roy refrained from reaching for his gloves; Maes was still doing business nearby, and it wouldn't do to alert anyone that the Flame Alchemist was not in Lilam. Breda stood unsteadily, and Roy got back onto his feet with an effort. They were creating a scene, and it was evident that the spectators were siding with the locals.

_This can get ugly quickly, _he thought.

"Again," Roy offered, "we're very sorry. Can we buy you a drink?"

The man advanced, and Roy sighed. He'd prefer not to fight this guy in such a hostile environment, bu he wasn't being given much of a choice. The man already thought them both weak, so he looked frightened as the man raised his fist. The man was big, but he was slow, and Roy managed to duck the blow with ease and struck the man with all of his force in the kidneys.

The man sucked in a breath, but returned the favor, catching Roy with a glancing blow to his right cheek, which he dodged, and a left to his gut which he didn't. Breda had recovered enough by this time to help out, and Roy caught his breath against the table.

"Hey, beautiful," Roy forced a smile through bleeding lips at the man's girlfriend, who was advancing once again with the cue. "What are you doing with this brute?"

"He's my husband," she spat, and yet...

"He's very lucky to have a girl like you to defend him," Roy said. "I'd give anything to have a girl like that."

Her scowl smoothed a bit, and her grip loosened on the pool cue. "I-"

"Quit talkin' to my woman, you damned city boy!"

"I couldn't help myself," Roy shrugged as Breda pummeled the distracted man. "A woman like that, who would jump into the middle of a bar fight to defend you, is worth admiring."

"Adam!"

Roy snatched the cue out of her hands as she ran to her husband. Breda continued to beat the man who had fallen to the ground after a particularly rough right hook. "Hey!" Roy recognized the look in his subordinate's eyes and approached him cautiously. "Hey, it's alright."

He set his hand on Breda's shoulder and lightly squeezed. "He's out, Heymans," he murmured quietly. "Please stop."

Breda swallowed hard.

The woman hit Breda ineffectually with her fists. "You bastard! You fucking bastard!"

"Here," Roy muttered, reaching into his wallet. "This is for the hospital bill."

Breda rested his bloody knuckles against his eyes, smearing the man's blood all over his face. Roy helped him to his feet, warily eying the bars' inhabitants, but after Breda's display no one seemed willing to take them on. He handed the bartender some money for the damages, and looked around for Maes. The newly redheaded man had already left, and Roy hoped the altercation hadn't affected their plans too much.

"Damn it, Breda," Roy groused good-naturedly as they walked into the streets. "You need to learn how to break! I am not big enough to get into fist fights with large men in bars."

"Sorry, Boss. I didn't..." Breda shook his head. "I couldn't stop hitting him. I just...couldn't stop."

Roy opened his mouth to reply, re-thought his words, and paused. Finally, he said, "Are you hurt?"

"I'll feel it in the morning, but I think I'm okay. What about you?"

"Just some bruises. So no harm done." He rubbed his swollen jaw thoughtfully.

"But I couldn't stop. I swear, I didn't even know where I was, I just..." Breda made a sweeping, shaking gesture with his arm. "I couldn't have told you where I was, even. I couldn't have told you why I was beating this guy to death, but I just...I thought I was back on the front..."

"I know," Roy assured him.

"It's happened before. Not like that, but sometimes..." Breda looked down at his feet. "Boss, sometimes I wake up, and I think I hear gunshots, and one time, I had this girlfriend, and she got in late one night...and I'd been dreaming, and I thought...I could've killed her. I could've killed that guy tonight. He was looking for a harmless little scrap, and I could've killed him."

Roy lead him into the hotel down the street. For logistical reasons, it made sense to split the team across the city, but financial constraints required them to stay in the same cheap area. Roy would be eating noodles and broth for the next month after allocating half of his research funds to this little experiment in crippling the insurgency's supply chain. "You want to get something to eat?"

Breda looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "You have to ask?"

"Get cleaned up first, and then we'll head on down to the buffet."

"Buffet?" Breda snorted. "What're you trying to say, Mustang?"

Roy raised his hands, palms out. "If you don't want to go..."

"I'll be down in ten."

Roy made his way to his room, limping slightly. He could feel bruises forming on his abdomen, and his mouth felt like a mad dentist had tried to perform oral surgery with a hammer. His eye didn't feel like it had been too hurt, but the punch to his right cheek had been enough to cause some swelling.

He got into the room and washed his mess of a face off with some cool water and a towel. Breda almost killed a man in a bar. It had happened before. Roy shook his head.

Who hadn't it happened to, now and then?


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"I'm in heaven, Hawkeye." Havoc aimed his scope towards a particularly well-endowed woman. "Although it would be better if you'd decided to wear a bathing suit, too."

Maes had rescheduled his appointment with the Red Hands representatives in the back room of a tourist shop on the edge of the most popular beach in the south, because it would 'lend him credibility' to not be out in the open. Roy had accused him of merely wanting a tan, to which Maes had snidely replied that it wasn't him who was in need of one. The argument had gone long into the night, according to Breda, and finally Roy had caved because it would look to suspicious to suddenly change the agreed-upon location. Havoc and Hawkeye were stationed in a lighthouse in a small island located two hundred meters away, and Roy and Breda were near the shop, playing chess underneath a large umbrella.

Havoc had taken advantage of the down time to gawk at scantily clad, busty women.

"I can't kill people in spandex." She kept Mustang in view. "I'm not a super hero."

He snorted. "Just like old times, huh?"

"Minus the getting shot at, sure."

"Well, yeah. And a better view, too." He kept staring at the brunette with a lazy smile. "Much better."

"Maybe if you weren't such a pig, more women would date you."

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch, more women would date _you_."

"Just because I won't sleep with you doesn't mean I'm gay," she countered sharply.

"How else will I know for sure?" He shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"You--"

Their headsets both clicked, and Fuery's voice crackled in Hawkeye's ear. "Meet and greet in session. Full banquet."

"Copy."

"Guests in view," Havoc reported. "Where's the guest of honor?"

"Red hat," Fuery replied.

"Copy that. Didn't even recognize him."

"That's the point," Fuery sighed.

"I know that," Havoc sighed. "Everyone's a smart ass today."

Hawkeye didn't reply, and soon Havoc lapsed into silence. They waited, every muscle perfectly still, completely hidden from view.

Just like old times.

**-X-**

"Meet and greet in session," Breda murmured.

"No shit?" Mustang smiled at a brunette passing by. "I didn't get that exact same message in my ear. Thanks for pointing that out, Heymens."

"Anytime." He sipped his soda from a long, twisty straw. "So how long are we here for, anyway?"

"Hopefully just a few days."

"Hopefully?" Breda stretched. "I'm hoping we never leave."

"Yeah, I need to make sure the water's running in Lilam by the end of this week," Mustang pulled his sunglasses up to get a better view of the chess board before making his move, which he and Breda both wore to cover their black eyes.

Breda took out Mustang's knight. "You ought to hope nothing serious happens over there while you're here."

Mustang shrugged. "It's not like the higher-ups don't expect me to skip work and go on vacation."

"Yeah, you've taken lowered expectations, morals-wise, at least, to a new low."

"That's the plan."

"So when you clean up Eastern it will come as a complete surprise?"

Mustang shrugged. "It's just easier to accomplish your goals when your enemies don't think you're capable enough."

"Isn't it odd," Breda mused, "how the military seems to keep good, capable men from being promoted? It's almost as if they mean to cause half of the wars that occur through incompetent commanders."

"Careful," Mustang murmured.

"...All I'm saying is, unrest is as natural as--"

"Checkmate." Mustang smirked. "See what you get when you go off on those conspiracy theories of yours?"

But Breda noticed his eyes looked a little more sharp than usual.

"Set 'em back up."

**-X-**

Hughes smiled sideways through his fake burly bears and chomped on a cigar. "Best price in the country, if you ask anyone who's dealt with me before."

"Uh-huh." A burly man with a thick, sweaty mustache examined a crate. "It's the cheap part that's bothering me."

Hughes raised an eyebrow. "I could always raise the price."

"I could test one out on you. For accuracy. Then it'd be really cheap."

Hughes smiled as if there wasn't a Colt M1911 pointed at his head. "They're slightly used, of course, by a few of my...clients. It isn't very practical of me to keep them in my inventory."

"So they're dirty."

"Very slightly used, but used nevertheless, in unsavory activities, yes. I was assured by my associates that you weren't going to be bothered by details."

The man inclined his head with a stiff smile. "Yeah, if the folks in charge get close 'nuff to test our barrels, then we got other problems. How much you want?"

"50,000 cenz."

"Thought you said they was cheap," the man groused.

"That's at twenty-five cenz per gun."

"Huh. That many?" The man frowned again. "Something wrong with these guns, and I'll find your ass."

Hughes adopted a salesman's smile. "Of course, I hope you'll find me if you need anything else."

"Uh-huh. I'll have to ask the boss about this one. Get back to you tomorrow."

"I look forward to it. Would you like to take some of the merchandise with you? To sample, as a gesture of goodwill?"

"Not much stoppin' me from takin' it all with me, now that you mention it."

Hughes thought of his beautiful fiancée, and kept his smile frozen in place. "But then you'd miss out on all the other deals I have to offer. I'm a man sympathetic to your cause, sir, and I can assure you that I can beat the prices of my competitors in many different areas. I've got a shipment of 98k's coming in next week, if you need a little more firepower...and I've also got a man involved in demolitions who might be able--"

"Can it, Mikey. We'll get in touch with you tomorrow, if we feel like the goods are worth it. Marcus, load 'em up."

"But--"

A group of five men dressed in black with severe expressions began carrying the crates out. Maes fingered the knives underneath his coat. If the man held the gun at his temple one second longer...

"If they're good, we'll pay. If not, you will." The man turned to leave. "Look forward to doin' more business with ya'."

**-X-**

Hughes toasted Roy with a grin. "They'll be back."

The alchemist sipped his drink. "Fuery tracked the first batch to a town a few miles north of here. Looks like they're moving them up north, all right."

"Not for lo-ong," Maes singsonged.

"I think we should just raid their warehouse tomorrow, Hughes. It's too dangerous to put you back there."

"This is what I do, Roy," Hughes told his friend for the thousandth time. "Besides, don't you want some of your money back?"

"I'm not saying that," Roy sighed. He very much needed that money back, but... "I just think it's an unnecessary risk."

Hughes' face turned serious. "Roy. That's what I do. Okay?" He drank some more. "If they get too rowdy at the shop, then I'll take care of them, and we'll be down a few rebels. If they don't, then we'll have mapped their supply chain. But if we stop right now, they'll be suspicious, and I'll have come down here away from my wonderful Gracia for nothing."

"No pictures," Roy said before Hughes could reach for his wallet. "I know she's beautiful."

"Beyond compare?"

"Of course."

A few hours of celebratory drinking later, the conversation continued along the same vein.

"Really, though, Roy," Hughes grinned sloppily. "It's amazing, to feel this much about someone."

"I'm really happy for you," he said, sincerely. "That's why I didn't want to do this."

"She knows I might not come home one day," Hughes replied somberly. "I told her when I proposed."

"Damn it, Maes."

"Please?" Hughes set his drink down. "I told her, and she said that she loved me too much not to have me in her life while she can. She's a strong woman, and that's one of the things I love about her the most. If anything were to ever happen to me-- and nothing's going to happen to me here, I can handle some backwoods wannabe soldiers, but if something does..."

Roy swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes?"

"You better not sleep with her!" Hughes pointed at Roy accusingly. "I know she's beautiful, but she's mine, got it? I am not having you poach my wonderful, sweet Gracia. So get your own wife!"

"Damn it, Hughes!"

**-X-**

Riza flipped over on her stomach, soaking in the sun with a blissful sigh. Sure, they'd only be there another night at most, so she was making the most of it while she could. She took a deep breath and exhaled, drifting...

"Nice tattoo you got there, Hawkeye."

She flipped over angrily. "How the hell did you get into my room?"

Havoc jangled a key. "Told the front desk we were lovers. We came in together, remember? Two attractive people like us, sleeping in separate bedrooms...It just didn't seem right."

"Get. OUT!" Riza reached for her gun, and cursed herself for keeping it in the bedroom. "I swear, Havoc, I'll plead self-defense..."

Havoc sat on the chair next to her. "You got a balcony, and I need a cigarette."

"Jean..."

"Wanna trade rooms?"

"Wanna give me a reason not to punch you in the face?"

"Why are you so angry? Did I interrupt something with your woman?" He lit his cigarette. "I wish we were based here. I hate the East; it's too close to my mom."

"She still bothering you to come home?"

"Yeah, she wants me to take over the general store. I don't have the heart to tell her I'm never going to do it."

Riza gave up being angry. She hadn't had a many chances to catch up with Jean outside of work since they'd been stationed in Eastern. "You should tell her so she can hire some help before it's too late."

"I know, but she makes me feel so guilty. At least if I were based here, or maybe in Central...you know, if I were farther away and couldn't help out all of the time, maybe she'd decide to sell it."

"What about your brother?"

"Still out West, but I think he's weakening."

"Still?" Hawkeye lied back down. "I thought he was going to come home last year because he was sick of all the rain."

"Yeah, met a girl out there. Thinking about getting married, but of course Mom doesn't approve. The girl's too city for her, I think. Real nice girl, though, and not just big breasts."

"Jean!"

"I said not just!"

Riza shook her head. "Your cigarette stinks. I'm going inside."

He inhaled deeply. "Suit yourself, lover."

"...Am I interrupting something?"

Havoc nearly choked on his cigarette. Riza shook her head. "Why do they even give out keys?"

"Adjoining door," Roy gestured. "I heard a voice, and wanted to make sure...ah. In any case, I'm sorry for bothering you, Lieutenant."

Riza opened her mouth to reply, but he was already in his room, locking the door with a blue flash of alchemy.

"Uh-_huh_."

She glared at Havoc. "You can leave anytime, too, you know."

"I can, but then I wouldn't know why that tattoo looks an awful lot like the Colonel's gloves, who, I must say, just impressed me by doing something other than the matchstick routine." Havoc studied her curiously. "Just how long have you known each other?"

"Since the war," she lied. "My father was an alchemist, and he tattooed some research on my back. Some of the symbols are fairly common. Any other questions?"

"You comin' down for dinner? I'm starving."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

Roy paced back and forth in silence for several minutes before Maes decided he might need to intervene if he ever wanted another drink.

"You look happy," he noted. "Nothing serious?

Roy poured another drink. "Just Havoc."

"Ah." Maes handed him his glass, which the younger man refilled in jerky motions. "Did he say something to piss you off?"

"No, just Havoc smoking a cigarette on my lieutenant's balcony," Roy clarified somewhat bitterly. "Under questionable circumstances."

"That's not altogether surprising." Hughes eyed Roy over the brim of his drink for a few tense minutes, then smiled to himself. "You know that your lieutenants trained together in the past, right?"

"Yes, I'm aware of that," he snapped.

"Sniper training in the same cramped spaces," Maes taunted genially. "Often overnight."

Roy's grip on his glass tightened slightly, but his voice remained smooth. "Having a fantasy over there, Hughes?"

Maes shrugged. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't have been so completely taken off guard. It's not like you, Roy."

"Fraternization is not something I need to worry about right now, on top of everything else."

"Are you going to talk to them about it? It seems like they've been very discreet."

"Well..." Roy looked out the window for a moment, studying the waves crashing on the beach outside, before slowly replying. "...of course not. They're adults, and they're both professional. Until they give me a reason to address it, I'll let this run its course."

"So you don't think it's anything long-term?" Maes pried.

Roy stared at his drink for a moment, then smirked. "So tell me again how you convinced this rational, smart girl to marry your sorry ass?"

"Subject change much?" Maes stretched languidly. "But how can I resist? I took her to the park where we used to meet everyday after she'd finished work..."

**-X-**

Riza stared at the door for a few moments after dinner, trying to work up the courage to knock. He hadn't _seemed_ upset when he had seen Havoc inside her room, but she knew better than to judge his emotions by his mannerisms. Besides, they still needed to speak about that night he kissed her, but she supposed that they never would. That was fine with her. So what if while Havoc had been eying that brunette, Riza had been eying Roy smiling at that brunette, and it made her feel like she had a mild case of heartburn? The food in the south was very spicy. It could have been a coincidence.

The man didn't look half bad with his shirt off, either.

She hit her head on the door in frustration, and the lock slid open.

"You all right, Lieutenant?"

"I- Sorry, I didn't mean..."

Hughes tilted his head. "Were you looking for Roy? He went out a few hours ago."

"Oh."

"I have to hide out here and keep a low profile," he slurred.

"I see."

"Wanna keep me company? I'm pretty bored."

Riza unlocked her side of the door and stepped into Roy's room. "Sure."

"Drink?"

"Yes, please," she requested a little desperately.

He poured her a healthy portion of whiskey and rose his own glass. "Cheers."

She didn't wince as the whiskey burned its way down. She'd learned how to drink in the trenches a lifetime ago, and much worse stuff than this. "So this is where his money goes."

"Among other things. Nice, huh? You can say a lot about the bastard, but he's got pretty good taste," Hughes patted her shoulder affectionately. "You got Havoc hiding in there? There's plenty to go around."

"No, we're not...like that."

"Didn't peg you for the cuddling type."

"I'm not sleeping with Havoc!"

Hughes grinned. "I know."

Hawkeye ground her jaw. "...I don't think I want to know how you know."

"I'm paid to know these things. But Roy thinks you are, and I think he's thought that for a while, given the history." Hughes pushed his glasses up. "You've known Roy for a long time. And don't bother to deny it, because I know these things, remember?"

"Yes." She drank some more. "Longer than you."

"Right. So...really? When did you meet him?"

"He hasn't told you?"

"Evidently."

"Go investigate. It's what you do, right?"

He laughed.

She frowned. "He wasn't... upset, was he?"

Hughes just smiled some more. Riza noted how unfocused his eyes looked behind his glasses and wondered if he even knew where he was. "You know you're going to my wedding, right?"

Riza drank some more. "Sure. Have you set a date besides sometime in the winter?"

"Depends when Roy can make it down. I'm not letting him out of this one."

"I don't think he'd miss it," she assured him.

**-X-**

Hughes was passed out by the time Roy entered. Riza looked up a little sheepishly.

Roy unbuttoned his collar. "What are you doing in here?"

"I came here to talk to you," she enunciated a little thickly, "but I wound up keeping Lieutenant Colonel Hughes company."

"...I see."

"He passed out."

"He does that," Roy agreed warily.

"I came to tell you about Havoc," she blurted out a little harsher than she'd intended. "I think we need to talk."

Roy looked at her. "Can we...not do this?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You and Havoc...You and _Jean_, I should say. Speaking as your commanding officer, I don't want to know."

"Oh. " Riza stood up from the chair next to his bed and leaned against the wall. "You don't want to know either way?"

Roy looked confused. "Which way are you talking about?"

"The way where I'm not sleeping with Jean."

"You're not?"

"You just said you didn't want to know!" she exclaimed.

Roy frowned.

Riza flopped back down on the chair. The surreality of the conversation was too much for her tipsy mind, and she wished she hadn't taken that last shot with Hughes so her thoughts could congeal more coherently.

"...Lieutenant, are you okay?"

Lieutenant? Since when had they ever been so formal in private?

"Yes...sir."

He waited for her to reply to what he had said before, so she just nodded. He smiled faintly.

"You didn't hear a word I just said," he accused lightly. "Lieutenant."

His voice had dropped a few timbres, and she shivered as he tasted her title. "No, I'm sorry."

"It's just as well. I think I might have embarrassed myself."

"In that case, I'm very sorry I missed it, sir."

He was still standing near the bed, his white dress shirt unbuttoned to reveal his undershirt and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was mussed, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and bright with alcohol. "I've been embarrassing myself around you too much lately."

She mulled that over. "Why did you kiss me?"

His eyebrows rose a fraction. "Always going for the kill, aren't you?"

"I-" She looked at her hands. "I suppose that's what I do now, isn't it?"

"I didn't mean it like that," he apologized. "I...I'm sorry about the other night. It won't happen again."

"Never?" she asked.

"It can't," he replied. His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat. "I've always been very clear about that."

"Except for the other night."

"I'm sorry."

She remembered their first night together, years ago. He'd been seated at her kitchen table handling the final details of her father's estate. She'd brought him dinner, and he'd smiled at her gratefully. He'd actually smiled, then, not like the superior smirks he doled out now, or the faint lip twitches that forced themselves on his face, an actual, open smile that stretched from ear to ear and made her eighteen year old heart flutter.

"Were you just drunk?"

He sighed and his posture drooped. "No."

She paused. "Have you ever wanted to since you asked me to be your aide?"

Roy studied his shoes. "...I don't think we should talk about this."

The liquor had made her braver than she should have been. "Did I taste the same, _sir_?"

He inhaled sharply, rebuke on his lips, but he saw the tears gathering in her eyes and he walked over to her chair and kneeled down next to her feet. "Please?"

She wondered what the hell he was asking for, but held her tongue. Her tears did not fall, and she cursed Maes again for encouraging her to drink so much. She didn't like being at a disadvantage when she spoke to Roy; she needed all of her wits to decipher the ten different meanings in his words.

He looked at her with his hand covering his mouth, as if to keep any more secrets from spilling out.

_"I'm sorry this is taking so long," he'd murmured as his hand whispered across her bare back. "I'm almost finished." _

_"Mr. Mustang..."_

_"I think you can call me Roy, now."_

_She'd flipped over and lifted her chin. "Roy?"_

_"Yes, Miss Hawkeye?" he'd breathed._

_Her heart had pounded against her ribs as she tried to be seductive for the first time. "I think you can call me Riza, now."_

_His dark eyes had traveled across her body and then back to hers again, and she almost laughed at how tightly his jaw was set. His hands had remained at his side, clenched into fists. "Riza, ah..."_

_She'd caressed his cheek with her open palm and a growing smile. "Stop being so noble and kiss me."_

"Roy?" Riza touched his chin with the tips of her fingers. "What do you want?"

He murmured something against his hand, she thought it might have been a curse. She moved her fingers from his chin to the hand covering his mouth and pushed it away. "What?" she asked.

"You're beautiful. That's what I was saying before. I started thinking about the perils of fraternization and I completely lost my train of thought when your blouse slipped down your shoulder."

She looked down at her bare shoulder but made no move to readjust the fabric. He did it for her, lingering at her collarbone with his thumb. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, absently, as he brought his hand back to his face.

"That night you said that you didn't want me to think that you'd forgotten. Now you want me to forget about it." She rubbed her temples. "Not that I'm surprised, because I don't think you ever say what you mean anymore, but-"

"I meant every word," he growled. "I remember how you feel, how you sound, and how you taste, _Lieutenant_, so vividly sometimes it is all I can do not to lock you in the office, close the blinds, burn all the damned useless paperwork you insist on finding, sit you on my desk, and make you scream. _It is all I can do_. So no, I haven't forgotten. That's why I can't discuss this with you. I can't, because you are right here in front of me, and you aren't even in uniform, and that skirt would be so easy to push up and that shirt keeps slipping down. I am your commanding officer, damn it, and you don't want to hear the type of commands I'm thinking right now. So please go back to your room and lock the door and forget that we ever had this conversation."

Riza blushed and sat up, but Roy remained in position so that she couldn't move without tripping over him. Her breaths were coming out in pants, and the imagery he'd provided her made her mouth so dry she could barely swallow. She opened her mouth to ask him to move, but he was against her before she could utter a syllable. He pressed into her uncomfortably on the chair, but the alcohol dulled the pain enough that she didn't think to complain, and his mouth was against her so hard that she couldn't have done so even if she wanted to.

He lifted her up a little, struggling to get closer, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She tried to maneuver him into a more comfortable position, but he pressed against her harder, which left her back without any support from the chair, and made her neck hurt. He seemed to notice and braced her back with his left arm. His right arm had traveled up her skirt, and she gasped as he brushed his fingers across her bare thighs, higher and higher and...

"Misisstlhershldmve," he said against her lips, and she kissed him again.

"Mm," she agreed. She didn't think there was anything he could say at this point that she wouldn't agree to, as long as he didn't stop.

"Maes," he panted, pressing his forehead against hers to avoid her greedy lips.

"...is there something," she breathed, "that you want to tell me, Roy?"

"Huh? No," he scowled at her, then kissed her a few more times before finding the will to speak again. "Maes is here, remember?"

His fingers remained on her thighs, unmoving, and she hissed in frustration. "My room."

She could see thoughts swirling behind his eyes, and she knew that if he thought about it, if _she_ thought about it for that matter, that he would pull away, however reluctantly, and bid her goodnight. She leaned forward and sucked on his bottom lip, slowly, and she felt his fingers press into her thigh in pleasure. She pulled back, now that she had his full attention, and slowly peeled off her shirt. His eyes glazed over enough that she could take assurance that no deep thoughts were percolating in that damned analytical brain of his, and she licked the shell of his ear as she whispered, "Let's go to my room."

Roy carried her without another word.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

A/N: This is a citrus-y chapter. If you are offended by lemons, you might want to skip this chapter (or at least the italicized portion).

* * *

_He laid her down on the bed gently, almost reverently, and sat down beside her as he untied his shoes. She waited a beat, maybe two, before crawling over to inspect his progress._

_"Are you having some difficulty?" her eyebrows rose in amusement as she watched the acclaimed alchemist fumble drunkenly with his shoelaces. "Do you need some hel-mmph!"_

_"Ha!" Roy had kicked off his shoes in frustration and tackled her in triumph. "I'm not completely useless, you know."_

_"Then why," she wondered aloud between kisses, "do you still have these on?"_

_His dark eyes glittered with amusement. "Well, I thought I might need some help with them."_

_"Is that so?"_

_His hands deftly...when did they become so skillful, she wondered...removed her skirt, and his thumbs hooked around her panties teasingly. "I'll return the favor," he promised._

_Riza reached for the button of his pants, and her hands did not waver, but her confidence did. She looked up at him as her hands reached for his fly, and he read her hesitation. He reached for her hands and gathered them in his palms for a chaste kiss. "We've got plenty of time, yet," he assured her, and then gathered her whole body against his. "No need to rush..."_

He had kicked her in the head repeatedly while she slept, she decided. That was the only explanation for the ear-splitting headache she had woken up with.

Riza turned, with difficulty, to look at the empty side of the rumpled bed.

She revised her theory.

_There was nothing sexier, she decided, than watching those calculating black eyes of his glaze over in pleasure. "Ah, Riza," he murmured in her ear, "please..."_

_Her smile curved against his neck and she ran her tongue along his length. "You said there was no need to hurry, and I feel like taking my time."_

_He groaned. "You're killing me."_

_"Mmm." She ran her thumb across his tip, and smiled wider as he shuddered. "Not such a bad way to go..."_

_He pulled her up and directed his attentions to her cleavage. "Cruel, vicious woman," he muttered as he closed his mouth around her nipple, applying gentle suction until she gasped._

_She arched her hips towards him and he took advantage, finally pushing inside her. Roy bit back a moan, and Riza bit her lip at the discomfort. It had been a while since she'd been so intimate with a man. Roy looked at her, concerned, and paused._

_"Are you alright?"_

_She nodded, but he still didn't move any farther. He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks...surrounded her entire face with butterfly kisses until she laughed at the sensation. "Roy, I'm...please, move?"_

_He nodded, slightly pained, and began to push away from her._

_"No!" She protested sharply._

_He looked confused._

_"No, Roy," she sighed, twisting her hips upwards to meet his. "_Move_."_

_For the first time in years, she saw him grin._

Riza braced herself against the wall with both hands as she showered. The bright light had been too much for her dehydrated brain, so she had turned it off. She was dizzy and disoriented in a dark and slippery environment of her own making.

She groped the tub for her fallen shampoo and wondered, bitterly, what else was new.

_"Please, Roy!"_

_He smirked. "No hurry, right?"_

_"Roy...if you...don't go...faster...I'm..."_

_"Equivalent exchange," he crowed, breathlessly. "Though I suppose I could be persuaded..."_

_"Roy!"_

_He kissed her with a laugh. "Anything you want."_

Several sharp knocks sounded at the adjoining door, and Riza threw on a robe. She rushed to the door, and opened it to admit Maes Hughes, who carried a sheepish expression and her neatly folded blouse.

"Ah, you left this, last night..."

"Thank you, sir," she accepted the shirt calmly.

"There's been an attack in Eastern," Maes told her without preamble. "Colonel Jenkins was killed, and Roy was recalled immediately in order to take his place."

Riza moved to pack. "What train-"

"He already left, Lieutenant."

_She turned in his arms with a satisfied sigh. _

_He froze._

_"Roy?"_

_She tried to turn around to face him, but he held her in place as he traced the scar tissue on her back._

"Without protection?" She frowned.

"He brought Havoc with him. He said he wanted you to continue to oversee operations here."

Riza took a moment to digest this, and her stomach churned dangerously. "How is he going to explain over half of his staff conducting covert operations in the South?"

"General Grumman granted him permission this morning. As far as the higher ups are aware, we are just arriving. So when we blow the top off the supply chain by tomorrow Mustang will look prescient as ever." Maes looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. He said there wasn't time for him to inform you himself."

"I'm not questioning the Lieutenant Colonel's judgement," Hawkeye replied cooly, and reached for her notebook with grim determination. "If the General has approved, then we can borrow some men from Southern Command. I need to make preparations."

"The Colonel wants this to stay in-house."

"The _Lieutenant_ Colonel just reduced our already limited force by two men," Hawkeye said. "That might not be possible."

Maes shrugged. "We'll go over it later today, how's that? My head feels like it's been run over by a train, to tell the truth."

Riza nodded curtly, already taking notes. "Let me know when you're ready, sir."

_"Roy? What's wrong?"_

_He'd been deadly quiet afterwards, and the sudden change in mood made her heart sink. His hands were clenched over his eyes, and when she moved close to him he didn't push her away, but he wouldn't hold her, either._

_She pulled his hands away from his eyes, angrily. "Roy-"_

_His eyes were blank, and his expression completely unreadable. _

_They stared at each other for a few long minutes before he whispered, "I should go."_

The door closed with a gentle click.

She waited a few seconds more before throwing up.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"So what's up with Boss?" Havoc murmured into his headset while Mustang was sleeping on the train. "He's acting more like a wet cat than usual."

"That's not very nice to say," Fuery chastised.

"Is there a reason he didn't bring Hawkeye?"

"He probably doesn't trust you in command on the beach," Fuery sniffed. "I wouldn't."

"Nobody asked you," Havoc grumbled.

Mustang stirred, and Havoc double-clicked, indicating the conversation was over.

"I've got the same feed in my ear, Lieutenant," Mustang yawned. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

"I've got something I'd like to ask four-eyes," Havoc enunciated clearly. "Like why he didn't tell me the feed was on, what he'd like as a last meal, was it worth it -"

"Don't insult Kain," Mustang ordered. "I brought you along because as skilled as you are in combat, I trust Hawkeye on the beach more than you. She doesn't get distracted by busty women."

Havoc decided that he probably shouldn't share his theory on Hawkeye's sexual preferences. "I'm insulted," he said instead, almost meaning it.

"Are you going to cry?" Mustang smirked, eyes still closed. "Would you like a tissue, Lieutenant?"

Havoc crossed his arms behind his head and looked out the window. "I'd like a damned cigarette, is what I'd like. When the hell are we getting there?"

"Maybe another hour, if we don't get hijacked."

"If those bastards keep me from getting to my smokes in an hour they're gonna wish themselves outta existence, Boss. My eye is twitching."

"Are you going to say something worthwhile, or can I go back to sleep?"

"Why don't you sleep at night like normal people, instead of taking advantage of poor, innocent girls who'd rather be with me, they just don't know it yet? Huh?"

"That's _enough_, Second Lieutenant Havoc," Mustang snapped angrily.

"Yes, sir," Havoc replied reflexively.

_Like a damned wet cat_, he thought. _I wonder why..._

**-X-**

Hughes sat in his make-shift shop, wondering how the hell Hawkeye's shirt had wound up on the floor in his and Roy's room. Roy hadn't come home until early in the morning, and then only to change before hopping on the train.

At first he had hoped that maybe Roy had come home early, found Hawkeye, and then...Wait a minute...

He blanched. Maybe that's why Roy hadn't been able to look him in the eye, and why Hawkeye had looked so pathetic yesterday morning. Roy had caught them in a compromising position, and, sweet friend that he was, had covered for him, and now... Now he'd lost both his best friend and his future wife. He took his glasses off in a dramatic gesture and buried his knuckles into his eyeballs, trying to force a memory.

He'd ruined his future and he couldn't even remember doing so. He wished he could call Roy, but Roy was probably just getting into Eastern, and he had some damned hacks to deal with in less than ten minutes.

"Yo, Mikey."

Hell. Prompt hacks, at that. "You're early," he put his glasses back on. "Guns good enough for ya?"

"Guns work great," the small man with a mustache sneered. "It's the tracking devices that we're having issues with."

"Beg your pardon?"

Hughes hoped Roy wouldn't disillusion his fiancée at his funeral. His knife hit the small man in the throat, and his other one hit the larger man in the knee...He ducked under his desk and hoped the other five had terrible aim.

**-X-**

"Gunshots fired," Fuery reported, struggling to keep panic out of his voice. "Seven men seen entering the building. Breda, deploy."

"I'm going in, too," Hawkeye's voice could be heard coolly across the radio. "Southern Command has already been summoned. Fuery, please give them the list of warehouses we have located as of yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am."

Havoc broke his cigarette in half and lit another one. "Sir?"

Mustang grit his teeth. They were currently outside Eastern Headquarters, and the General was approaching. "Take a long cigarette break," he muttered. "I can't go inside HQ bugged."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"If anyone is injured, you come up right away. You heard it from Falman over official lines, got it? Have him call Fuery and get an official rec- Good morning, General."

General Grumman ran his thumb and forefinger across his distinctive mustache. "Good morning, Mustang. If you'll walk with me, I'd like you to give me five reasons why I shouldn't court martial you for going AWOL."

"You're short a Colonel, sir."

"That's one," the older man allowed.

"I beat you at chess for the first time a few days ago."

"There's a reason to get rid of you right there."

"Ah..."

Havoc listened as their voices grew dimmer and lit another cigarette. "Fuery, what's going on?"

**-X-**

Hawkeye took care of the men waiting in the truck outside, and Breda darted inside the shop against the tide of fleeing tourists. The owner looked harmless, but Breda yelled at him to leave, because he couldn't leave his back vulnerable to someone who might be affiliated with the rebels. The owner froze, and Breda shouted at him to place his hands over his head and leave the shop, but the man wouldn't move, and Hughes was down there and running out of time, so Breda yelled again and the man reached under the counter-

Breda fired twice, watched the man fall, and tried not to notice that his hands were empty.

**-X-**

Hawkeye maintained communication with Fuery as she rowed quickly ashore. As far as she knew all of the Red Hand men outside the store were dead, but she kept low just in case. She watched Breda run into the store unharmed, and then heard the sharp crack of two more shots.

She rowed quicker. She was supposed to remain in the lighthouse, but with Breda and Hughes alone against seven men in an enclosed space, she couldn't afford not to help them.

She just hoped she wouldn't be too late.

**-X-**

Hughes was glad that Roy had splurged on a stainless steel desk, but he wished that they were manufactured without a three inch gap in between the desk and the floor. He fired a few shots over the desk, and danced his feet around in order to avoid being shot in the ankle, which so far the men merely ten feet in front of him were unable to do.

The door slammed open and he could hear the men redirect their fire. He popped up above his desk and sent five of his throwing knives across the room, three of which connected inside the men, and then ducked back down just as the other two men returned fire.

"Hey, Heymens!" He called out.

No answer. He cursed. "Breda's down," he muttered into the bug under the desk. "Two guys still," he reached his gun over the edge of the desk again, fired three wild shots, and got a bullet in his hand for his effort. "Son of a bitch! Two guys still up."

**-X-**

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang is still in a meeting with the General, Second Lieutenant," Anna said as she typed. "He'll be out- hey! He's in a meeting!"

**-X-**

The room was covered in blood, Hawkeye noted as she stepped over Breda and fired two shots at the men who were just beginning to turn their weapons towards her. "I need a medic, stat," she informed Fuery, and immediately knelt down beside Breda to check for signs of life. "Pulse is still good, still breathing, but they got him in the stomach. He's unconscious."

She applied direct pressure to the wound and called out for Hughes. "Are you all right, sir?"

Hughes crawled out from the desk with a grim expression, and tossed a knife at her head.

Startled, she ducked, and heard a loud thud.

A man dressed in red with a gun fell to the ground, dead. Hughes shot each of the men on the floor once more in the head for good measure, and then reloaded his weapon and aimed it over Hawkeye.

"Keep up the first aid, Lieutenant. I'll cover you."

Blood dripped freely from his hand.

**-X-**

"Southern Command has captured one million cenz worth of assets from the Red Hands and their affiliates in the east," Grumman noted approvingly. "It is estimated that over half of the organization has been captured or killed. This is just the sort of thing to have run in the papers after the embarrassment yesterday. Your methods were not orthodox, by any means, but I do appreciate the results."

Mustang nodded. "Thank you, sir. May I be excused to check on my subordinate?"

Grumman's eyebrows raised. "All this talk about wanting nothing more than a promotion, and then to leave a meeting with a superior officer early to go check on the health of a subordinate when there is nothing to be done from here...you are an interesting man, Mustang. Provided I don't change my mind and issue you a court martial, I expect you in my office early tomorrow morning. I would like to continue our chess match."

"Yes, sir." Mustang saluted, and Havoc followed him out of the office.

"Breda is the only one injured?" He inquired softly.

"Hughes got shot in the hand," Havoc replied. "And Hawkeye-"

"How was she hurt? She was stationed two hundred meters away."

"She came down to help. Anyway, she wasn't injured, she told Fuery to tell you that they're all being sent back up to Eastern on the next train, except for Breda, because he's not stable enough. She sounded pissed about having to leave him, but Southern is getting very territorial."

"...Interesting."

Havoc slumped. "They said his prognosis is only 50/50. He shouldn't be left there alone."

"Of course." Mustang opened the door to the office. "Havoc?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I believe I owe you one week's vacation."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

Fuery took a deep breath like he had seen the Colonel do when Havoc lit a cigarette in the office, and tried not to scream in frustration as Warrant Officer Vato Falman smirked at him from across his desk.

"The Colonel gave me a promotion for handling the office so well in his absence."

"Congratulations," Fuery forced a smile.

"Just so you know, there's going to be some changes with the recruitment paperwork. I noticed that you file everything by last name, but I think that we should file by recruitment date, and then last name."

_Just nod and agree._ Havoc had told him the secret to dealing with the anal-retentive man, but Fuery just couldn't. It wasn't that the man was particularly bothersome, he was nice enough, and it wasn't that he wasn't intelligent, because the man was a walking encyclopedia. It was that Fuery was inclined towards practicality. He revered the purity of purpose in machinery, and he didn't believe in adding extra parts when they weren't needed. He applied this theory to nearly every aspect of his life, and it was nearly impossible to adjust to Falman's excessive categorizing. "They're already in order."

"Sometimes they get mixed up. This way we can make certain."

"You mean this way we can just make extra folders for the heck of it," Fuery clamped his hands over his mouth, but that didn't magically make the words go back inside, so he just accepted the fact that he would be fighting with Falman the entire day. This was even more distasteful since Falman was now his superior.

_Darn it._

"Is Roy in yet?"

It always jolted Fuery to hear the Colonel addressed by his first name, so Falman replied first, "No, sir, he isn't. He's usually at least ten minutes late on Fridays."

Fuery shook his head and gave his usual excuse for the Colonel's late mornings. "He's in a meeting with General Grumman, sir."

Sometimes it was the truth.

"Huh," Hughes scratched the back of his head. "Is, uh, Lieutenant Hawkeye in yet?"

Fuery frowned. "No, she grabbed a cup of coffee and said she'd be in a meeting until noon today."

Hughes relaxed slightly. "Ah, well, then I'll be in Roy's office if you need me."

"You know, Lieutenant Colonel, we're a little understaffed at the moment," Falman began.

"You are not asking Colonel Hughes to help us," Fuery shooed Hughes into Mustang's office. "He's much too busy."

Hughes waved behind his back before he shut the door. "Sorry, Falman, got a lot of work to do in here."

**-X-**

"We want stretchier fabric across the waist and bust, especially," the Lieutenant that Riza had spoken with so many times over the phone complained.

"We demand stretchy fabric!" A more militant redhead that she'd noticed on patrol in the past exclaimed.

"Perhaps a cotton blend?" Cindy the cook timidly suggested.

Riza smiled sympathetically at the younger woman. "I'll see what we can-"

"The wool shrinks, and those pigs do it on purpose!" The militant redhead shouted.

Riza rubbed her temples.

"New shoes."

"Definitely new shoes! These boots are atrocious, and if we don't wear the boots, then we have to wear those damned heels! It was almost impossible to fight in those things when HQ was attacked a few days ago."

Riza took copious notes to cover her absolute boredom, and once the round-table discussion had been completed, she stood to go, but the Lieutenant sat her back down and handed her a glossy catalog.

"We're not done yet."

"I need more coffee," Riza pleaded in a tone that sounded far too much like Roy's for her comfort. In the break room she waited until a fresh new pot had brewed, and then stirred in her sugar packets and cream as slowly as possible.

It was no use. The women followed her in with armfuls of catalogs.

**-X-**

Hughes kissed a photo of Gracia as he slumped over in the chair in front of Roy's desk. Normally he would just steal his chair, but he decided that he probably didn't want to provoke the man any more than he was about to this morning. Besides, the stacks of paper stacked on his desk looked precariously perched, and as much as he knew Roy pretended not to care about the pencil pushing that his job entailed, he also knew that years of lab work had fashioned the man into a fairly meticulous person, and that the paperwork was undoubtedly triaged by his staff before being brought to him.

Other than the mountain of paperwork, there was no other clutter in his spacious office. His massive bookshelves stretched across the office and held his private collection of alchemy texts and research papers, which in some cases rivaled the State Library's, as well as the detailed personnel files of everyone under his command. That was it. Three black leather chairs, one medium sized desk, paper, and books. He kept no personal possessions visible on his desk (Although inside, Hughes knew, there was a bottle of brandy, a box of matches, and an extra pair of gloves...Hughes guessed, though he had never asked, that the brandy might make certain items more flammable, but then again maybe Roy kept it in case the Fuhrer keeled over dead while he was at work. It was impossible to guess at some of Roy's motives, even for someone who knew him well).

The door opened and Roy stepped in with another stack of papers. "This is what Jenkin's desk must have looked like last week," he sighed. "I almost feel a little bad about the whole stunt."

Almost, Hughes noted with a faint smile. The ends nearly always justified the means to Roy, and whenever Hughes questioned the morality of that world view, Roy would just shake his head. Roy was idealistic, but he could also be ruthless.

"I thought you'd be back in Central by now," Roy continued. "Is something up?"

"I'm not so sure the wedding is going to happen."

Roy frowned, papers still in hand, and waited for Hughes to continue.

Hughes felt beads of perspiration begin to form at his temples. He hadn't felt so lost for words since he was twelve, when he'd forgotten the lines of the play he'd been starring in. Or perhaps when Gracia had first told him that she loved him, and he paused, unable to capture how he felt about her in just three words, and he had stared at her for a good ten minutes before she simply kissed him. Maybe some combination of the two scenarios, where he was out of lines and the darkness offstage had swallowed the only people who loved and understood him.

"Maes?"

"I don't know how to say this," he admitted lamely. "Especially to you."

"What happened?" Mustang looked concerned. "Do you need anything?"

_I need you not to kill me when I tell you that I'm fairly certain I slept with your lieutenant, and then maybe a couch to sleep on when Gracia kicks me out if you're so inclined._

"I slept with someone in Rele."

"Huh." Roy absorbed that for a moment, and then sat down in the chair next to Hughes. "Sometimes...those things just happen."

"No, no, Roy, they don't. I never thought I would be this irresponsible, and I can't go home and touch her knowing that I might have done something like this." Hughes tugged on his hair with his fists. "I can't touch her, knowing, and I sure as hell can't pledge to honor her for eternity, knowing."

Roy looked so sympathetic, and Hughes was so in need of sympathy, that he almost choked on his next admission. "Roy, I slept with Hawkeye."

Looking at Roy at that moment, Hughes was reminded of collecting the young Major for battle in Ishbal. At first his eyes would be shaded, as if he couldn't believe where he was, or what he was about to do. Then, once he could stall no longer, his dark eyes would slowly drain of any emotion; they would become so cold and dull that Hughes thought he looked like a blind man.

Those were the eyes that, after a brief flash of pain and disbelief, measured him as if he were a city block set to be demolished. When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft and intense that goosebumps spread across Hughes' forearms.

"In Rele?"

"Yes," Hughes whispered.

"When?" He asked lightly.

"The night before the attack on Eastern. I don't remember it, but I found her shirt on my floor, and I...when I went to tell her you'd left, she wouldn't even look at me."

"Just her shirt?" Roy relaxed. "You didn't sleep with her, Hughes."

"How can you-" Hughes froze. "_You_."

Roy rubbed his forehead with his palm. "...Yeah."

"So I didn't..." Hughes almost broke into a relieved laugh. "Wait...in the room while I was passed out?"

"No! Well," Roy frowned. "It's none of your business."

"I'd say it is, considering I almost called Gracia five times yesterday to beg forgiveness!" Maes' face turned in on itself in disgust. "What if I hadn't waited to speak with you? What if I'd just gone home and ruined my entire life all because you can't remember to clean up after yourself! How did you forget-"

"I'm sorry, okay? Believe me, it won't happen again."

"No wonder you were so upset when you found Havoc in her room," Hughes mused, his eyes dancing with the thrill of discovery. "I always suspected something was going on between you two, but I thought maybe you dated or something before the war. You hid it well, I'll give you that-"

"Hughes!"

Hughes frowned. "What?"

"It's not..." Roy shook his head sadly. "It was a mistake."

"Oh." Hughes' frown deepened.

"Yeah," Roy's voice held no conviction.

"Does she know it was a mistake?"

Roy covered his eyes. "After I left her in bed right afterwards? Yeah, I'm sure she isn't thinking about me very warmly right now."

"That's pretty cold," Hughes whistled. "Have you spoken with her, yet?"

"I stopped by her apartment last night, so we could get everything ironed out before work, but she either wasn't in or she didn't want to see me."

"And that's who you have guarding your butt right now."

"I'm not concerned about that," Roy sighed. "I just wanted to apologize to her before she had to see me at work."

Hughes stood to leave. "I've got to get to the train station, but you know if things get to hectic out here that you're more than welcome to stop by Central. I owe you a few rounds."

"Thanks, Hughes. I appreciate it."

Hughes waved, and practically ran to catch the next train back to his love.

**-X-**

Lieutenant Hawkeye strolled into the office with three female soldiers trailing behind her. They each carried boxes of fabric swatches, catalogs, forms, and looks of grim determination.

"Colonel?" Hawkeye knocked on his door. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir. I was meeting with the uniform committee for you."

The women set the boxes near his desk on the floor, saluted, and left. Roy returned the salute with apprehension, and turned towards Hawkeye with the same emotion. "Ah, thank you Lieutenant. I tried to speak with you last night-"

"Oh?" If she had been hiding behind her couch with the lights turned off, she certainly did a good job of hiding it, he thought. "Do we really have that much to discuss, sir?"

_Ouch_. "Can you close the door, please, Lieutenant?"

Her glance was wary, and he remembered, vaguely, the little speech he had made a few nights before. "Yes, sir."

"You can keep the blinds open," he attempted humor, "and the paperwork makes for a good chaperon."

Her jaw twitched, but not in amusement. "May I speak freely, sir?"

"You know you don't have to ask that."

"You don't know how freely I'm about to speak," she tilted her head, "sir."

Roy walked over to the door and locked it, then shut the blinds. "Please don't yell too loud," he requested.

Riza's eyes widened. "Sir?"

"Not like that," he grumbled. "I don't want everyone else outside to think I'm a complete pushover. I need to maintain discipline."

"Fine." She tilted her chin upwards. "The way you acted in Rele was exceeding unprofessional, sir."

"Yes, I know. I apologize, Lieutenant."

"You should have taken me with you," she continued angrily. "You shouldn't have let your personal feelings dictate who you let guard your back. Sir."

Roy's eyebrows inched upwards. "Is that what you think?"

"You could have been killed!"

Roy straightened his shoulders and asked, "Are you done, Lieutenant?"

"Yes."

"I have some questions for you," he continued sternly. "I understand that you left your post against orders." He crossed his arms. "You also contacted southern command against my express wishes."

"Yes, sir, after you-"

"I know why you did it," he interrupted. "That's why you were there to begin with. Lieutenant Havoc is a skilled soldier, but he doesn't have your judgment. I was close to being court-martialed that morning, Hawkeye. The best way for you to watch my back that day was to take charge in my stead. I'm sorry if you perceived it as a personal insult, but I can assure you that my personal life is the last thing on my mind when I'm making tactical decisions."

She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up his hand. "We are in a delicate position, Lieutenant. I understand completely if you have lost faith in me as a commanding officer, and I have already had the paperwork drawn up if you would like to request a transfer."

"I said I'd follow you into hell, sir," she replied. "This doesn't qualify."

He sighed, relieved, and asked softly, "Are you sure?"

Riza stared at her feet for a minute before walking towards the boxes.

"Ah, I forgot to ask what the hell those are doing in my office, Lieutenant."

"You're looking at the head of the female uniform committee, Colonel."

Roy felt fear snake into his heart. His trusted aide had joined the enemy. "Are you being blackmailed, Lieutenant? Do you need assistance, or-"

She slapped a handful of forms into his hands. "Unless you want to spend the next five hours going over the merits of various cotton blends versus wool, I would recommend that you sign my requests into action, sir."

"Insubordination," he murmured. "Normally I would love nothing more than to sign your recommendations into actions, Lieutenant, but I'm afraid we are on polar sides of this issue."

Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't."

"I handed a report of my own to the General this morning."

"Do you really think," Hawkeye asked grimly, "that you can win against the uniform committee now that I'm in charge? And don't you have more pressing concerns to take take of?"

No, he did not, and yes, he did... but she looked lovely when she was so passionate about an issue, and he thought that they could both use a distraction. "I guess this is war, Lieutenant."


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"Well," General Grumman twirled his mustache with a mischievous smile, "on the one hand, this is the most asinine report I've received in my entire career. On the other…let's just say that the economics intrigue me."

Roy bowed his head in order to study the board to thwart Grumman's brewing king-side attack. "Thank you, sir."

"That wasn't a compliment, Mustang."

"Yes, sir."

Grumman laughed. "What the hell are you doing with your bishop?"

Mustang frowned. "I can't tell you, sir."

"Never mind, I see." Grumman sighed. "Castling won't save you, Mustang. I've already won."

"I don't doubt that, sir," Mustang replied dutifully.

"I hear the news from Lilam is improving. Crime in the entire Eastern area has dropped a collective twenty percent since your team's raid on the southern insurgents." Grumman moved his pawn into the hole Mustang had inadvertently left when he captured Grumman's knight. "On top of that, the alchemist you recruited from Eastern Sciences is a very good contender for a State Alchemist position."

Mustang blinked slowly in surprise. "A specialist in agriculture?"

"…I believe that the institution is more concerned with his work involving nitrogen, but yes, it is a little unusual."

Mustang captured the king pawn, but it was too late. All of the moves he could conceive either man making would result in his defeat. "Nitrogen, yes...That makes more sense."

"Things seem to be going very well for you, Lieutenant Colonel. So tell me why your aide is going behind your back to bring opposing proposals to your commanding officer?"

"Ah." Mustang hid a smile behind his palm as Grumman took his queen. "That would be why she's my aide, sir."

**-X-**

"Anna," Roy greeted warmly as he left the General's office. "How are you this morning?"

She smiled crookedly and twisted her chair away from the file cabinet to see him. "A little early for my tastes, as always. How was your game?"

"Lost again," Roy rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "My ego, of course, is terribly bruised, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me salvage a portion of it?"

Her smile widened. "Of course not."

**-X-**

Hawkeye raised her eyebrows as he strolled into the office with a box of fabric and three female officers in tow.

"Sir?" She questioned.

He smiled and closed the office door behind them with a dramatic flourish.

"What's that about, ma'am?" Falman asked.

Hawkeye's lips pressed together in a thin line as she wrote down the ranks and names of the women in Mustang's office. "War."

"Oh, dear," Fuery's eyes darted back and forth between the Colonel's closed door and Hawkeye's face of death.

"Against who?"

Hawkeye just shook her head. He was clever, she'd always known that, but she hadn't considered that he would go this far…then again, the female uniform committee had been harassing him with excess paperwork since he'd taken office. What was he plotting?

A chorus of giggles behind the closed door set her teeth on edge. If her suspicions were correct, then she would have to take dramatic measures indeed.

**-X-**

"Specialist Berk?" Hawkeye waved to the petite brunette as the women left Roy's office. "If I could have a word with you for a moment?"

Specialist Berk, otherwise known as Cindy the cook, visibly flinched as she realized that the head of the female uniform committee had personally viewed her treachery. "Yes, ma'am?"

"In the hall, Berk," Hawkeye ordered.

Cindy followed the Lieutenant nervously down the hall and around the corner, near the southern entrance. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Lieutenant Hawkeye shook her head. "Specialist Berk, were you or were you not cursing the cheap wool blend and it's lack of stretch across the waist and bust less than a day ago?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was."

"Were you or were you not aware that Lieutenant Colonel Mustang is attempting to usurp the female uniform committee's authority in order to fulfill his own sexist fantasy?"

"I... might have maybe been aware after he had me model the skirt, yes ma'am."

"He had you…" Hawkeye's skin flushed angrily.

Cindy hung her head. "I can't help it, Lieutenant. I'm so sorry, but whenever he speaks to me, I just…I don't think there's anything he could tell me to do that I wouldn't, ma'am."

"Nonsense!" Hawkeye snapped indignantly. "Do you have any shred of self-respect?"

"I…" Cindy looked up from her military issued heels. "No, I guess not, ma'am."

Hawkeye grabbed her elbow and drug her back towards the office. She hissed in her ear, "Specialist, you are going to go in there and demand an apology for the way he has objectified you."

"Oh, I couldn't…"

"Doesn't it make you mad that he moves onto another girl as soon as you're no longer convenient?"

"Well…sometimes, I guess…"

Hawkeye stopped before the office door with an incredulous expression. "You guess?"

Cindy looked down at her feet again and heaved a sigh. "This is embarrassing, Lieutenant. Do you promise you won't tell anyone I told you?"

"Go ahead," Hawkeye allowed. "I promise."

"The Colonel and I…well, we were never really dating," she whispered furtively. "He just…I tell him information about certain people on base, and he takes me out to dinner, sometimes...gives me money."

Hawkeye rubbed delicately between her eyes. "You mean…"

"I would love to date him for real, don't get me wrong, but I don't think he really dates that many girls. My friend Rebecca, she's his personal driver when he goes on dates, and she said that he saw him pay a couple of them on occasion, too. So it's not like there's anyone to get jealous of, really."

Hawkeye forced herself to breathe normally. "So why were you changing into mini-skirts in his office?"

"Oh," Cindy's face flushed some more. "He actually paid us to say that if you asked. He said it was psychological warfare."

"You're free to go, Specialist Berk. Thank you for your honesty."

Cindy saluted and walked back to the mess hall to begin preparations for lunch.

Hawkeye opened the office door and ignored Falman and Fuery as she opened Roy's door with a savage jerk and slammed it with as much force.

"Colonel," she clenched her fists at her sides, "what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Mustang looked as innocent as he could manage, which wasn't very. He could affect almost any emotion, even sincerity, but his eyes were just a touch too tired to ever pull of innocence convincingly. "My work, Lieutenant. Perhaps you should try it sometime, instead of petting fabric samples all day."

"Simple dates with coworkers are one thing," she gritted out. "Morally questionable, but you keep the ranks down so that it doesn't get too obvious. Just a flaw in an otherwise competent commanding officer; I suppose that's how it's read by the higher-ups."

"Lieutenant," Mustang cleared his throat. "I'm not sure what-"

"Won't they get suspicious," she continued in a low murmur, "if you pay off the wrong girl? Gathering intelligence through casual conversation is one thing, but leaving a money trail is inexcusable. If I could uncover it, then what makes you think that you're safe?"

"You are absolutely correct, Lieutenant," a jubilant voice announced. "The Lieutenant Colonel has been exceedingly careless, indeed."

Hawkeye blanched, and Mustang gestured to the phone on his desk with visible displeasure. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. You burst in here so recklessly that I wasn't afforded a chance to inform you of my conference call with General Grumman. General, the Lieutenant was just leaving."

Hawkeye shut the door with trembling hands and sat at her desk.

"Lieutenant!" Fuery jogged to her desk. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded and tried to focus on her paperwork.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"You're leaving?" Tyra blinked her large brown eyes, and Havoc considered phoning his resignation in again that evening. He'd begged for an extension on his vacation...in addition to the extra week Mustang had given him, he still had one more...but Kaine had pleaded with him to return to the office.

"They haven't spoken to another in three days," the younger man had quietly confided, "unless it's directly related to work, and barely even then. The Lieutenant sends us in with any paperwork, and he just shouts from inside his office, and-"

"Fuery, what the hell are you doing under your desk?" Mustang's voice sounded equally amused and weary.

"Talking to my mom," Fuery lied. "Ok, Mom, I've got to go, but try to keep in mind what I said, ok?"

Mustang cursed under his breath. "Just one normal subordinate..."

"I get it," Havoc relented.

"Breda's being transferred back to East City, and I have to go back to work soon," Havoc frowned. "I don't suppose you could visit...?"

She rubbed her nose forlornly. "I've got so much work here at the hospital...I just don't think it would work.."

"...Yeah," Havoc said. "I guess not. If you're ever in town, though?"

She smiled a little as he handed her his number, scribbled in terrible handwriting on their lunch receipt. "If I'm ever in town," she allowed, "you will be the first person I call."

Tyra walked him to the train station, and Havoc imagined bringing her home to meet his mother. His mother would love her, he decided, especially if she joined him on the farm-

He caught himself, even as she slid her hand into his. Tyra wasn't the type of woman to haul hay. She belonged near the ocean. He kissed her before he boarded the train, and he was so preoccupied with missing her that he forgot to smoke a cigarette before he left. Havoc was left to speculate whether the tightness in his chest was due to premature heartbreak or nicotine addiction.

**-X-**

Hawkeye almost did not attend the Lieutenant Colonel's fashion show, but sure enough, five minutes before the doors closed, she found herself standing before Falman and Fuery seated at a sign-in desk.

"If you sign this petition," Fuery muttered guiltily, "to state that you formally agree with the Colonel's uniform proposition, then you get in free. Otherwise, it's twenty-five cenz."

Hawkeye slapped down the money and walked inside. The auditorium was full, and she digested the knowledge that he had won their little war. She spotted him seated in the front of the stadium, flanked by several admirers, and then continued looking for whom she had actually come to see.

The General sat near Mustang, and she approached him without acknowledging her superior.

Grumman smiled when he saw her. "Lieutenant," he said. "Have you come to admit defeat?"

"I needed to speak with you."

He shook his head, and his wild eyebrows jiggled with the force of his sentiment. "Nonsense! You'll watch this show with me, and then we'll talk."

"I-"

He shooed an aide away, and she felt guilty when he shot her a dirty look. "Sit here."

The lights began to dim, and she sat stiffly. Riza wasn't eager to watch dozens of women prance around in miniskirts; she didn't really want to know what she'd be forced to wear in a couple of months.

The first model began to walk out, and the men in the audience began to cheer and whistle, until they realized that she was dressed quite modestly, in a fifty percent cotton blend, the announcer pronounced from above, providing excellent comfort, fit, and durability.

Riza tried not to look surprised as each model came out on the runway wearing her recommendations. Well, almost...the skirt length had been shortened by an inch, but that allowed for better movement, and also saved on fabric costs...She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and caught him smirking darkly at her.

Her own lips began to twitch. That bastard.

The last model strutted out in a miniskirt and three inch heels, and the throngs of soldiers cheered. Riza's mouth finally fell open, and Grumman tapped her chin. "You'll catch a fly, Lieutenant."

She shut her mouth and turned to look directly at Roy, who was waving at his fans from the booth.

_Couture only, I'm afraid_, he mouthed at her when he caught her looking, and she relaxed a bit. She wouldn't have to wear a miniskirt to the office. One less problem to solve.

"See?" Grumman chided her as they left the auditorium. "You were all upset over nothing."

"He told me-"

Grumman waved his hand dismissively. "Mustang says a lot of things," he interrupted. "You should know by now that the man speaks a special kind of Amestrian."

"I needed to speak with you," she said again. "Is tonight okay?"

He gestured for her to get inside his car. "I'll always make time for you, you know that."

They sat together a few moments in silence until the driver pulled out into traffic.

"You seem upset," Grumman noted.

"Grandfather," she inhaled deeply, "the Lieutenant Colonel has not been paying women for information on his rivals. I was terribly mistaken when I shouted at him yesterday afternoon."

"If you are," Grumman allowed, "then he certainly is in trouble. I taught him those methods myself."

Riza managed not to look disgusted at the thought of her grandfather romancing any woman who was not her grandmother...she paused, then decided that any thoughts of him romancing anyone were too much for her brain to handle. He continued speaking, and she was grateful that he shifted the topic back to Roy.

"He's got a lot of potential," Grumman mused. "I know he wasn't pleased to be stationed here under my command, but realistically it's for the best. If he were to stay in Central the higher-ups would devour him. He needs...seasoning. I'm giving that to him."

"So...He's being careful? You're looking after him?"

Grumman smiled. "You're very concerned about your commanding officer, Elizabeth. Perhaps you should be more concerned with your own life, and retire from this military."

It was an old argument, and she didn't bother with a retort. She just said, "Thank you, Grandfather. You can drop me off at home."

"Nonsense," Grumman said. "You'll eat dinner with me."

She gave up hopes of ever unpacking her belongings. "Yes, Grandfather. But I'll cook this time."

He chuckled. "Yes, I think that's for the best."

**-X-**

Havoc looked exhausted at work the next morning, so Hawkeye did not admonish him when he hollered across the office.

"Hey, Boss! Your State Alchemist is gonna be stationed here!"

Mustang looked troubled by this development. "Ah."

"More help?" Falman looked pleased.

"He's not going to be filing shit," Havoc took a break from shouting and blowing his cigarette across his desk in order to treat Falman like the man was completely incompetent. "Do you see Mustang filing shit? Their hands are too special to risk paper cuts, didn't you know that? Those are educated hands. He's probably going to be out in the field."

"Because the Colonel gets a lot of field work," Falman replied sarcastically. "There hasn't been a bicycle stolen in the past week."

Mustang looked up from his desk. "I like that thought, Havoc. If you could casually mention to as many people as possible how concerned you are about me getting paper cuts..."

"Get back to work, sir," Hawkeye sighed.

"Lieutenant? My office?"

Havoc didn't even pretend that the request was for him. He had two cigarettes laid out on the desk, and had fashioned a string of paper clips as a sort of finish line. He began to blow again, and Hawkeye shut the office door behind her before she saw which toxic delight won first place.

"Does Lieutenant Havoc seem a little bit off to you, sir?"

"Every day," Mustang agreed. "He fell in love again down south, so he'll probably be like this for a while longer."

"Yes, sir." Hawkeye adjusted her clipboard, prepared for a torrent of orders to begin bursting forth, and he didn't disappoint her.

"We need the engineering corps back to inspect the progress in Lilam. Now that security isn't as much of an issue, perhaps we can push that up? I'd like to go tomorrow."

Hawkeye regarded him steadily. "...is this because Havoc accused you of just sitting at your desk?"

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I needed to get out there, anyway, and I'd like to do it before that kid comes down here."

"Kid, sir?" She smiled kindly. "You're only twenty-five."

"Shit." Mustang looked at her intently. "Are you sure, Lieutenant? I feel twice that, if I'm lucky."

"You don't look it, sir."

He looked at his desk, and she swore she could see a light blush touch his cheeks. "I'm...glad that we have patched things up, Lieutenant. I apologize for being distant lately."

Riza fought a smile. She'd missed speaking with him, even if things were still slightly awkward. After he'd ordered her out of the office the other day, and then refused to speak to her, she'd thought that they might not recover.

"I apologize for screaming at you in your office, sir."

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat. "The next time I'm on a conference call I'll be sure to let you know as soon as you enter. Although I'm sure that you aware that there was no harm done."

"Yes, sir."

"In any case, I'd like for you to accompany me tomorrow."

Annoyance began to build once again. As much as he professed to be a patient man...

"I haven't arranged everything with the engineers yet, sir."

"I have faith in your abilities, Lieutenant," he waved dismissively.

She didn't throw anything at him, because they were supposedly back on good terms. Instead she just saluted and wondered how he could make her so happy one moment and make her want to pull out her hair by the roots the next.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

"Saltpeter Alchemist?" Mustang shook his head with a smirk. "That's a backhanded insult if I ever heard one."

The young alchemist seated across from the Lieutenant Colonel frowned. "Uh, sir?"

Riza shook her head. Roy had been in a foul mood ever since Jenkins had been replaced. The paperwork had been reduced, much to everyone's relief, but control over the Lilam reconstruction had been granted to the higher-ranking man.

"Rumor has it that saltpeter is an an-aphrodisiac," he explained, "and it's also quite often cultivated from urine and farm animal dung. Which would explain it."

Mickal Drebbel's fists tightened on the leather chair, Riza noted, but he did not take the Colonel's bait. "Yes sir, that's true, although not common knowledge. I've developed a way to distill animal dung into saltpeter, which can be used to fertilize crops...not control libido. It isn't glamorous, by any means, but it is useful."

"Yes," Mustang flipped through the young man's file, even though Hawkeye knew he'd memorized all the documents contained in it days before Drebbel had arrived in Eastern. "You've also experimented with ammonia and sodium nitrates."

"...as fertilizer, yes."

"How do you detonate them, Major?"

Drebbel's eyes bulged. "Detonate fertilizer?"

"We are both aware that all of the substances you specialize with are highly explosive, Major. I've looked over your research papers from Eastern Sciences."

"Much of that research was directed by faculty, as I'm sure you're aware, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Of course, and much of your research from here on out will be directed by the military." Mustang's eyes narrowed. "This is a direct order, Major. Did they go over orders with you after you were awarded your title, or do I need to educate you with a court-martial?"

"I don't-"

"I'm not interested in the chemicals you use for the actual detonator," Mustang clarified. "I can guess fairly easily at those- how do you set the detonator off at a distance?"

"The Flame Alchemist is asking me how to generate a spark?"

"Court-martial it is, then. Lieutenant?"

Drebbel bowed his head to hide his anger. "I just do. It's not that hard once you get the calculations right, and you know it."

Mustang's eyebrows raised minutely, and he quietly handed Hawkeye the paperwork for a court-martial she kept at the bottom of her clipboard in the vain hope that he would one day write Havoc up for smoking indoors. "Let me see the array, Major."

Hawkeye looked at Mustang in alarm when she recognized the array, but he did not seem disturbed. "Ah. I thought so. Nitroglycerin...you know that you could just use this as the explosive?"

Drebbel kept his head down. "Yes."

"In the war there was another alchemist with your particular...specialty," Mustang shook his head. "No wonder they snapped you up. I thought...In any case, Salty, you'll be reporting tomorrow at oh five hundred to Eastern Station to Lilam. Your assignment will be to help the occupants there with crop enrichment, just as you wished."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're dismissed."

The young man tossed him a salute and hurried out of the office, where he was put to work by Falman sorting incoming mail.

"Isn't that interesting?" Roy mused.

"He truly wants to help people," Riza said. "He's nothing like him."

Roy looked uncomfortable as he watched Drebbel knock over a stack of folders. "I suppose not."

"Kimbley was a monster, Roy. He's just a boy."

Roy looked at his hands. "Kimbley was, too. I never agreed with his enthusiasm for war, but... he wasn't always like that, Lieutenant."

His eyes looked as distant as they had when he'd left her alone in bed. Riza set her clipboard down on his desk and forced him to look at her. "You're not a monster, Roy."

"It's nearly four o'clock, Lieutenant," he checked his pocket watch with a fake smirk. "Can you take charge of things for me here? I've got a date to keep."

"Yesterday _was_ payday, wasn't it?"

Roy looked slightly affronted. "Are you implying something, Lieutenant?"

"I think I did more than imply, sir."

"Well, if you're worried about my finances, I can assure you all this date is setting me back is the price of a fresh bouquet of flowers."

Riza's scowl deepened, but she turned so Roy couldn't gloat. "The work you ditch today will be on your desk awaiting your signature early tomorrow morning, sir. I assume that you will be coming in an hour early to make up for this flagrant disregard for procedure?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Roy waved as he strode out of the office. "I'll see you all tomorrow morning."

**-X-**

"You should feel honored," Roy informed the redhead as he set the flowers in a vase. "I ditched work an hour early just to bask in your sunny presence."

"Shove it, Boss," Breda replied lightly. "You bring any magazines?"

"Of course."

Breda's eyes gleamed. "You're an alright guy, Colonel. Have I mentioned that lately?"

"I don't think you've mentioned that in the entire time I've known you, Lieutenant." Roy reached inside of his coat and set a brown paper sack on Breda's hospital bed stand.

"Well, you are. Havoc just brought me some hand weights that he used while trying to buff up for my nurse, who he completely monopolized -"

Breda froze when he saw the first magazine cover.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"

Breda slowly lowered the magazines down to the bed and glared at Mustang, who was pressing his lips together firmly to hold in his building laughter. "Cooking magazines?"

"You don't like them?" Roy tried his best to look hurt. "I scoured the entire store for the perfect cake shot. It's devil's food, with-"

"You are an evil, evil man."

"Look inside, Breda."

Breda looked like he was about to launch the trio of magazines at his commanding officer's smirking face, but he opened the magazine out of curiosity and, "Oh. Nice, Mustang."

"I didn't want the nurses to know you're a pervert." Roy sat down in the chair next to the bed and stretched his arms behind his head. "I also pulled some strings and got a cute redhead assigned to your room. I'm not sure if she has a dog or not, but she seems nice enough. She's very gentle when she takes blood, if I remember correctly."

Breda murmured an assent.

"Heymans?"

Breda looked up. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay? Are they taking care of you well here?"

"Of course, Boss."

Roy nodded. "I wanted to thank you for your work in Rele. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"That's what they pay me for."

"No," Roy shook his head. "You were there because of me, and I left you, and you got shot. If I had been there, then this might not have happened."

"Boss," Breda tilted his head, "it's not very becoming of a commanding officer to indulge in guilt in front of his subordinate, don't you think?"

"I suppose not," Roy replied gratefully. "In any case, if there's anything you need..."

Breda held up his magazines. "More food porn?"

"Anything else?"

"Real food?"

"Not until the doctors say okay," Roy admonished. "It's a miracle your stomach is healing as well as it has. I don't want to mess that up, and you better not, either. If I find out that you're sneaking any food in here I'll have you running a lap per calorie when you finally come back to work."

"I think I liked you better guilty."

Roy made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Too late. Pass me a magazine."

**-X-**

"Hey, Hawkeye. I'm guessing Roy's not in if you're answering the phone. He at home?" Hughes asked pleasantly over the phone, but Riza could detect an undercurrent of urgency in his tone.

"I don't think so," she replied. "He left about ten minutes ago for a date."

"Huh. He told you that? To your face?"

"Yes, sir." Riza grit her teeth.

"Not very...ah, in any case, I'll try him at home later, then." Hughes sighed. "Unless you have any idea where his date might be?"

"Is something wrong, sir?" Riza picked up a pen. "I can try to catch him..."

"No, no, no." Hughes chuckled uneasily. "Nothing concrete, just a feeling."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and Riza promised that she'd ensure the Colonel wasn't late for his tuxedo fitting in a few weeks. She set the receiver down more gently than it was accustomed to being handled and wondered what disaster she should be preparing for next.

"Good evening, Lieutenant!"

Riza looked up to see Lieutenant Colonel's replacement and the current reason why Mustang slammed his phone, Colonel Sendivo, grinning at her. He was a young man, only thirty-two, and he smiled so often that he had prominent, premature crows feet etched into the corners of his eyes. "Working late again, I see?"

"Yes, sir."

"I wish my staff was half as dedicated," he complimented. "Are you sure you aren't interested in switching commanders? I wouldn't leave you to do all my work."

"Thank you, sir, but I am happy here."

"Oh, of course, of course. Say, Lieutenant, I'm heading to Lilam tomorrow for an inspection of the progress - it's been going splendidly, by the way, give my regards to Mustang - and I was looking for some of the early reports from the engineering corps. Our PR chap is going to write it all up in the papers."

_And I wonder who's getting all the credit,_ Hawkeye thought sarcastically. On the other hand, it wasn't as if Roy really needed any more notoriety. "Yes, sir."

"Hopefully all this mess will settle down a little bit before the PR guy and I head down there tomorrow," he lamented as she rifled through the file drawers. "Everything's been going so well until just this week..."

"Oh?" Riza thought back to Hughes' call. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing major at first, just some information that came to light after the interrogation of the Blue Group and the Red Hands members that Mustang trapped in that raid. We discovered that quite a few folks from Lilam had been harboring rebel elements, and naturally we brought them in for questioning."

"Really?" Mustang had all but promised no reprisals for past rebel affiliation...

"There have been a few that don't agree with our methods, but what else do they want? The law is the law, after all."

Riza handed him the files.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Colonel Sendivo saluted her, file in hand. "Give my regards to Mustang."

Riza returned the salute uneasily. "Yes, sir."

_Nothing concrete, just a feeling_. Hughes' words echoed through her mind as she left the office.

A really bad feeling.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

It was pouring outside by the time Riza reached Roy's house, and she cursed herself for not taking an umbrella with her as she stepped out of the car. In the seconds it took her to reach his front porch her hair was plastered to her forehead, and her wool uniform clung uncomfortably to her clammy skin.

"There are easier ways to take a shower, Lieutenant," his voice purred behind her.

She stepped aside so he could unlock the door, and he ushered her in with a questioning glance. He, of course, was bone dry, thanks to the umbrella he set just inside the hall. "There weren't any reports of rain in the forecast."

"I like to take extra precautions," he shrugged. "Although I can't say that I'm disappointed to see that all of the extra paperwork you brought me is useless."

She handed him the soggy folder. "At least you can't burn it now. I'm sure it can be salvaged."

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

She took off her boots and remained standing in the hallway as he walked into the kitchen. His house was only a little larger than her apartment, but he had obviously replaced the military issue furniture with more comfortable items; the couches were leather, and the tables looked expensive and well made. Bookshelves, of course, taller than he was lined the interior wall, and she wondered if he still spent his evenings reading.

"I won't bite you, Lieutenant."

"I don't want to get your carpet wet."

"Just come in here," he replied, slightly annoyed.

Frowning, she obeyed. He set the teapot on a burner and reached into a drawer for a piece of chalk.

"You keep chalk in the kitchen?"

He sketched an array on the chalkboard he kept on the refrigerator. "In case I run out of sugar for my coffee," he explained with a smirk, "or when wet women camp out on my doorstep."

"Roy!"

"Stand still," he ordered. A flash of blue surrounded her, and she felt the briefest kiss of warmth against her skin.

"Oh." She was completely dry. "Thanks."

"Hughes contacted me at the hospital," he said. "I'm guessing that's why you're here?"

Riza bit her lip. "I think so. He told you about the men who were arrested in Lilam?"

"Among other things." The teapot began to whistle and he poured the boiling water into two mugs. "Rumor has it that the Blue Group and Red Hands are capitalizing on the discontent. Do you still take sugar?"

"Black, please."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, but he handed her a steaming cup with the tea still steeping inside without comment. He tossed his own bag and began to load his beverage with cream and sugar. "What else did Sendivo say?"

Riza repeated the entire conversation verbatim.

Roy frowned. "He's trying to recruit you?"

"That's the only thing you got out of that entire conversation?"

"It's just not very professional, that's all. I would never try to steal someone's subordinate out from under their noses, and I'm surprised how many officers think that's acceptable behavior."

"You left work an hour early for a date," Riza pointed out. "How professional is that?"

"A date with a hospitalized man."

"Oh." Riza frowned. "Why did you lie? And who else tried to recruit me?"

"I didn't lie," Roy leaned against the counter. "I just didn't want you to be able to find me with that folder of yours. And what makes you think it was you being recruited last time?"

"You did lie, and if it wasn't me, who was it?"

"General Armstrong tried to recruit Havoc, remember?" Roy hid a smile around his cup. "And I'm the one people accuse of having an oversized ego."

Riza felt her cheeks warm, but kept her features schooled impassively. "Then I was mistaken. I just don't recall you reacting the same way when she tried to take Havoc."

"...She tried for you first, actually," he admitted. "She went above my head to Central Command, and it took three weeks to straighten the entire mess out." He sighed. "Now you're going to be insufferable, aren't you?"

Her cheeks heated even more. "Well...it's nice to be appreciated."

"I appreciate you, Lieutenant. So much so that now I have a General who hates me."

"Just because..."

His eyes gleamed. "There goes your ego again. This is why I never told you."

"You don't tell me lots of things," she finished her tea. "I'm sorry I didn't have any valuable information for you, sir."

"You confirmed that despite his cheerful exterior, Colonel Sendivo is a complete bastard, just as I suspected. That's very valuable to me."

"Have you heard of confirmation bias?"

He waved her logic away with his hand. "I don't like the man."

"That's because Hakuro promoted him ahead of you."

"And look where he wound up! The same place as me-"

"-making more money..."

Roy looked wounded. "Who's side are you on, Hawkeye?"

She set her cup in the sink and began to wash it. Mustang's hands landed on her shoulders and pulled her away. "I can do my own dishes, thank you."

Riza graced his chalkboard with a knowing glance. "I bet."

He set his own tea cup down next to hers and began washing them by hand. "I don't use alchemy for everything. That would take too much brainpower."

"Mm-hm," Riza agreed doubtfully. The house was almost too clean to be done purely by hand, but Roy had always been very neat for a lazy, procrastinating man. "Thank you for the tea."

Roy dried the dishes with a slight frown. "Are you leaving?"

She nodded.

Roy dried his hands on the dish towel and studied them for a moment before stepping beside her. His hand found the small of her back and he walked her to the door. She forced herself not to press into the warmth of his touch, but she didn't need to practice self-discipline for long because he quickly dropped his hand to his side.

He cleared his throat. "Would you like an umbrella?"

"I think you need it more than I do, sir."

"I've got a few to spare." He shot her a wry look. "Someone thinks it makes a hilarious birthday present."

She accepted his umbrella with a smile and turned to leave, but spun around so quickly he nearly tripped over her. "Don't forget to finish those papers. I know you can dry them now."

"If I had known you would reward me with paperwork I would have left you outside," he complained gently.

"And you're due at the office one hour early tomorrow."

"Good evening, Lieutenant."

"I'll see you in the morning, sir."

**-X-**

Roy was, unsettling enough, at least three hours early for about three weeks, because Drebbel's work with the farmers began at dawn, and security in the area was rapidly deteriorating to the point that it was unsafe to be seen about after dark.

Towards the end of the first week Havoc had offered to take the calls in his stead, but Roy refused. Fuery spent as much time operating the switchboard as he did making the exhausted man coffee. Falman had nearly been demoted when he suggested that perhaps the Colonel should not slam the phone down so harshly, and he'd even snapped at Riza when she, towards the end of the second week, told him to leave early.

One look had been enough to cause him to back down.

He raised his hands in surrender, palms outward, as if she had pulled her gun on him. "I know. I'm sorry. I've been a complete bastard this past week-"

"Past two weeks, Boss," Havoc chimed in cheerfully. "Worse than my girl when she's-"

"In any case," Roy continued, to the pleasure of everyone in the office who was sick of hearing about Havoc's new girlfriend, "I'm not a morning person, and this is why."

The phone rang, and Roy picked it up wearily. "Colonel Mustang sp-"

All traces of exhaustion evaporated from his face and was replaced by grim determination. He listened for about five minutes before he hung up the phone without saying a word.

"We've been dispatched to Lilam," he announced bitterly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

_The farmers watched at Drebbel skeptically as he alchemized their cow dung into heaps of fertilizer. "You just mix that in with your soil before you seed, and your crops will yield at least twice as much as before."_

"_Uh-huh," a young man drawled. "How do we know this isn't some trick?"_

_Drebbel opened his mouth to reply, but confusion stilled his tongue so that he appeared like a freshly caught fish, rethinking his words and opening his mouth with every lightning quick reassessment. Years of critical thinking and in-depth examinations culminated in a heart-felt, "Huh?"_

"_How do we know," the man shifted his toothpick with disdain, "that you military folk aren't just trying to destroy our crops?"_

"_Why would we do that?"_

"_Oh, I don't know...Same reason you guys arrested my father and fifty other guys who were just trying to feed their families after you ignored us for the better part of a decade?"_

_The men looked at one another uncomfortably. Finally an older man sighed. "Simms, if the government wants to get rid of us, seems to me they'll do it a lot quicker'n just spoilin' our crops."_

Drebbel ducked his head as the gunfire increased.

"Major, I was informed by General Gran that you have a proficiency for setting off explosives in the distance. We're having trouble re-taking the center of the city...the rebels are quite well fortified...but if you could detonate the center of the village you'll save many of our soldier's lives."

"_This young man is here to help us, Simms," a old woman smiled. "Look how much better things have gotten lately. We have electricity and running water, and you've got a job now to feed your family. Don't give him such a hard time."_

"_He's here, alright," Simms scowled. "We'll see if he helps any."_

_She waved his cynicism away with a smile. "Mr. Drebbel, would you like some lemonade?"_

"There are still civilians in there," Drebbel protested weakly. "They don't have anything to do with this."

"They're combatants, Major."

"They-"

"They've been hiding rebel groups this whole time, and now they're firing on our soldiers!" Colonel Sendivo pressed his lips together in a grim line. "I don't like this any more than you do, but our men will die if you don't activate that array."

"Sir-"

"We've lost a hundred men already. We didn't choose this place as a battlefield, Major, the rebels did, and I for one will not be held responsible for their deplorable decision to use civilians as shields."

An explosion rocked the military compound, and Drebbel bit into his knuckles.

**-X-**

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," Mustang said, "you'll lead our men into the center of Lilam from the south. Lieutenant Havoc, you will assist as second in command."

Hawkeye nodded. "How many men?"

"...Twenty-five."

Hawkeye nodded, but Havoc narrowed his eyes. "Just how many men are we up against, Boss?"

"Preliminary estimates are five hundred, but if the citizens are participating..." Mustang cleared his throat. "If the citizens are participating, the number increases substantially."

"How substantially?"

"Havoc, will you let me talk? I'm not letting you go in there unprepared, I assure you."

"Yes, sir."

Mustang shook his head. "Damn it, yes I am. There are at least two thousand hostiles in the village, and there are reports of Aerugan explosives being used. There are only two hundred troops actively stationed in Lilam, and by all accounts we are their only reinforcements. This is shaping up to be a bloodbath, and Colonel Sendivo isn't renowned for his tactical prowess."

Hawkeye cleaned her gun calmly. "Where will you be, sir?"

"Command tent on the north side, per Grumman." Mustang clenched his fists. "Listen, I don't care what orders Sendivo gives you – if at any time you feel like you need to retreat, then you retreat. I'll take care of whatever ramifications might result."

"We'll be fine, sir," Riza replied quietly.

Roy looked out the window. "You better be."

**-X-**

"We need more reinforcements," Sendivo cursed. "Our men are like fish in a barrel out there."

Lieutenant Colonel Mustang studied the man blankly. "We're all you've got, Colonel. Perhaps you should have taken that into consideration before you began this campaign. Even if more troops were approved, it would take days for them to arrive from Central or Southern."

"I began?" Sendivo asked. "Really? I believe it was you who recklessly began to rebuild this city without fully investigating the citizens' involvement with rebel factions!"

"Sir! We've got twenty more men down in the Chidde district!" Sendivo's assistant shouted from across the tent. "It's suspected that they've got some sort of Panet grenades, Aerugan issue. They're tearing us apart."

Mustang's jaw tightened perceptively. His men, and woman, were fighting out there. "What is your plan here, Colonel? The Blue Group...and aiding townspeople...have a superior defensive position, and with the Panet grenades our men have no defense. Even if they manage to advance... Are you familiar with urban warfare, sir? We don't have the manpower necessary to fight house to house. Unless you have something else planned we'll need to retreat immediately."

Drebbel clenched his fists.

**-X-**

"Cover me!"

"Shit, Havoc!" Hawkeye fired from behind a cake shop as he dove across the alley in order to take better aim for the clock tower above. "You can't possibly-"

His steel blue gaze stopped her words. "You're not the only officer with good aim, Lieutenant." He holstered his side arm and pulled his rifle from across his back. "Just cover me."

She held her tongue and hoped that the snipers located above wouldn't notice him until it was too late. It was a risk, but it was also a risk to leave them in place and advance into the town center. She signaled for their subordinates to remain in place and scanned the alleyway for advancing fighters.

Hawkeye fought an urge to tell the man to hurry – accuracy in this instance was more important than haste. If he were to fail, he would alert the snipers to their positions, and there was little in the way of cover. He adjusted his scope, froze, and squeezed the trigger four times.

"Got 'em."

Hawkeye never saw the explosion. A bright flash seared into her retinas and rubble sprayed across her cheek.

"Stay down!" she ordered.

**-X-**

"More casualties reported, sir," Sendivo's aid reported.

Colonel Sendivo slammed his fist against the communications desk, causing the phones to leap upward. "They can't advance. All right, Lieutenant, give the order."

Mustang's eyes flashed.

"Major Drebbel, are you prepared?"

Drebbel's sweaty hands were covered in chalk, and they shook against each other as he nodded with a sudden swallow. "Ye- yes. Yes, sir."

"That's not necessary, Colonel," Mustang replied quietly.

"Our men are being slaughtered out there, Mustang!"

_To pay the cost, we will have to shoulder corpses and cross a river of blood. So that the new generation can be happy._

Mustang set his hand on Drebbel's shoulder and murmured, "I believe you specialize in agricultural alchemy, correct Major? I believe this is outside of your scope of experience."

"Sir?" Drebbel blinked back tears.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang!" Sendivo growled. "This is insubordination!"

"This... is my specialty, Colonel." Mustang looked at the ground and raised his hand. "Give the order."

**-X-**

"We're being ordered to retreat," Hawkeye announced as she wiped blood out of her eyes. "Come on, Havoc, we need to hurry."

Havoc held onto her shoulders as he steadied himself. "Shit. Leave me here, you get yourself – ow!"

Hawkeye set a brutal pace behind her men as she dragged him along. "I said hurry, not bitch, Lieutenant."

"What have our men up top got planned?" he wondered.

"Shut up and run, Jean!" She shouted.

"Whatever it is, they could have used it a helluva lot sooner, damn it!"

**-X-**

Sendivo murmured for a few moments with his assistant at the communications desk. "Looks like everyone who's clear is clear, Mustang."

**-X-**

The flash was brilliant and blue and familiar, and screams of agony were cut mercifully short as a column of fire enveloped the village.

Riza wiped her lips roughly and stared at the command tent.

**-X-**

The command tent was silent as Mustang lowered his hand.

Sendivo licked his lips. "Excellent job, Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. I can assure you I will inform General Grumman of your -"

Mustang walked out of the tent.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I am making absolutely no profit whatsoever in this fanfic.**

* * *

The hospital room was clean and sterile. She still felt dirty.

Her eyes had been unharmed - the shrapnel had merely grazed her forehead. Ten of her men had died.

They told her she was lucky.

Three knocks sounded at her door and she frowned. (The nurses never knocked, and Havoc bounded in recklessly on his crutches).

"Come in."

He walked in with his head down. "Lieutenant."

"Aren't you supposed to be in Central?" He had been summoned by the Fuhrer himself to receive a medal of valor for his actions, and she was concerned how he had been able to extricate himself from the spectacle.

"You should be focusing on your health, not my schedule," he chided.

"They are often intertwined, sir."

He frowned. "I was here earlier, but they knocked you out."

"They said I could go home yesterday, but someone wanted to keep me under observation."

"Ah." Roy continued to study his feet. "It's always better to err on the side of caution."

"So it _was_ you."

"Dr. Jin recommended the observation. I just..." he stopped. "I came to take you home, if you'd permit me."

"I can drive myself."

"I know."

"You're supposed to be in Central," she reminded him again.

Roy tugged his ear. "I am well aware of that, Lieutenant."

"Fine." She pushed her bedsheets down. "I could use a shower."

**-X-**

He sat at her kitchen table while she showered, sipping tea. He made her a cup as soon as she finished, and they sat across from each other in silence for several moments.

In other circumstances she might have been mortified at the state of her apartment. Boxes still sat in corners unpacked for over a year (mostly full of her father's books that she had inherited), and her kitchen pantry held little in the way of nourishment. She kept her living area clean, but it was spartan, right down to the small, clean wooden table where they sat in silence.

"Major Drebbel came to visit me," she finally said.

"Ah."

"...I'm surprised you aren't facing court martial."

Roy set his cup down a little harsher than intended. "He was under my direct command, and in my opinion he wasn't suited to the task. I had him removed from the State Alchemist position due to his temperament."

"Roy!"

His eyes were cool as steel as he held her gaze. "He can't perform the essential functions of his position, Lieutenant."

"He's a good officer --"

"Yes, and he deserves more than blood on his hands. This isn't his battlefield, Lieutenant, and I don't think he should..." Roy shrugged. "It also makes Sendivo less likely to charge him with insubordination."

Riza wanted to ask him if he was okay after destroying the village he'd worked so hard to save, but it didn't seem right, somehow, to voice her concern for a man who had just set destroyed an entire city. He stood from the table and turned to face the window. His shoulders were wide for an average sized man, and he stood as straight as a pillar. Even before his military training, he had always carried himself with such formal posture.

She realized what he was waiting for her to do and she sighed. "Sit down, Roy."

"I stepped off the path, Riza." He remained facing the window. "I'm going to have to do it again, and again, in order to reach my goals...and I'm not sure I'll be the right person for the job when I finally get there."

Riza walked up to him and stepped in front of the window. "You just killed two thousand people, Roy. I'm not going to kill you so you can feel better about yourself. You made that decision, and now you have to work so that those people's lives weren't in vain."

"We're short a State Alchemist," he replied vaguely.

"And?"

"My arrogance is what killed the people of Lilam, and that's not a guilt trip, Lieutenant, it's a fact. I am being watched very closely by Central, and if I favor another city, I suspect it will meet the same fate." Roy smiled humorlessly. "I'm going to need to become much more ruthless."

Riza's back straightened. "I see."

"I'll need someone else, someone like Drebbel, in the field to do it for me...preferably without knowing I approve. Someone with a little more initiative, a little more hunger..."

"...and you'll just handpick this person to roll right through testing?"

"I never said it would be easy, Lieutenant," Roy admonished lightly. "But if I'm going to need to become a pawn of Central, I'll need someone to discreetly correct any abuses of power."

"I'll start research tomorrow morning, then," she replied, "for a pawn of your own."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but I've already cultivated a list. I was hoping we could go out and meet with potential applicants in person beginning tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Riza sighed. "We?"

"The offer still stands to shoot me, Lieutenant."

"Don't test me," she snapped half-heartedly.

Roy was still watching her with that cool, blank expression, and she wondered what other bombshell he was planning to drop on her.

"Is there something else, Roy?"

"Yes, actually." He reduced the space between them with a step. "You broke my heart."

"What?" Riza rubbed her temples to ease the emotional whiplash he had just unleashed. "I don't understand."

"It wasn't when I left you at your father's to go to war, or even when I saw you on the battlefield with your dirty face and dead eyes, but when you asked me to burn and crush your back – when you asked me to break the bond that we shared, it broke me. I have tried to respect your request for so long that when we...the other night, I...when I saw your scars, it reminded me how much I've hurt you."

Riza tilted her chin upwards. "Is that why you left me in bed alone? Without a word?"

"I was terrified," he whispered.

"Really? It looked more like apathy to me-"

Roy stepped closer and slid his finger underneath her defiant chin. "I can't do this without you, Riza. I can't afford to do anything that might jeopardize our relationship, and sleeping together muddles things too much...especially when I'm dating half of Eastern."

"And a quarter of Central," she muttered.

"You broke our bond because of the monstrous things I've done, that I continue to do, and I understand."

His eyes were still unreadable, but heat radiated from his finger like metal in the sun. "I wanted nothing to do with alchemy because I felt guilty. I never blamed you."

"That's deceit."

She ground her jaw. "I never blamed you!"

"That day when you shot the Ishvalan with the knife while Maes and I were talking...I always wondered," his voice dropped almost as low as a whisper, "you must have had the scope trained on me at some point. Did you think of pulling the trigger?"

Riza tried to drop her head, but his hand wouldn't let her. "I couldn't."

He lowered his mouth to her ear. "In the first few weeks, before I became accustomed to the stench of burning flesh, I would wish that I'd never seen the secrets on your back, that you had kept them to yourself, that they could just disappear...I actually thought of burning them from from your skin...when you asked me to do so, as horrified as I was, I felt almost grateful"

She shivered from his breath against her ear and the chills his words sent down her spine. "I asked you to burn my back because I never wanted to see anyone suffer as much as you had."

His mask finally dropped then, and he dropped his hands helplessly to his sides. "That...but I betrayed your trust, I hurt you..."

"Roy. I never blamed you." Riza wrapped her arms around him, even though his arms hung limply against hers. "We have both done terrible things, and we will do more terrible things before this is all over. I don't think taking innocent lives is something we can atone for, but... we can change this country so that the next generation won't have to deal in blood.

"In the meantime," she continued, "as much as we don't deserve it...could we try to find some shreds of happiness, while we're still able...?"

Roy pressed his forehead against hers and finally returned her embrace. "We're going to Rezembool tomorrow."

Riza looked up. "Where's that?"

"Small, small town, much like where I grew up. But...it should be a nice excuse to get away from the office for a few days, in a nice, private train car..."

"Roy!"

He kissed her, and she forgot her protestations. "What time?"

"Very early," he breathed against her lips. "Oh four hundred."

"I'm surprised you bought a ticket for that early," she chided. "This potential pawn of yours must be very promising."

"It's said that he's very talented," Roy agreed, "and he's in his early thirties, so I won't have to babysit him like I did Drebbel."

"He might be babysitting you," she teased lightly.

Roy gently extricated himself from their embrace with a scowl. "If you're going to make fun of my age, then I'm leaving."

"You should be leaving anyway," Riza countered as she carried their teacups to the kitchen sink. "You need to get to rest if you plan on making the train on time."

"Always so practical..." He smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I wish I could stay."

"I know."

"It's not...this won't be easy, and I don't want you to think-"

She silenced him with a look.

"Of course," he murmured. "I'm honored to have you following me."

"Into hell," she sighed. "Or early morning trains. I'll pick you up at oh three hundred. Be ready."

His steps out the door were heavy, but he moved lightly enough, and she wondered how long they would play this charade.

_A/N: Yay! It's finally over. I went over the chapters and polished them a little bit, but please let me know if I missed anything. Thanks for reading!_


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